


No Place is Home

by NayaZephronic



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: I dont know how to tag, Multi, POV Original Character, Unreliable Narrator, bc idk, very bias telling, whats the tag for sucked into a video game but im not the main character?, will accept suggestions for tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-24
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2018-02-22 10:40:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2504876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NayaZephronic/pseuds/NayaZephronic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life hates me. Abusive parents, ending up in the foster care system, and -that- is a load of crap, unwanted and left on the streets at 18, I was never very lucky. So, waking up in Thedas after being hit by a bus? I wasn't surprised. You know all those stories were we end up as the Warden or Hawke? This isn't one of those. In Antiva, I am to become a Crow, whether I want to or not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Help Me I am in Hell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Re-posted from FF.net, under the same name, hope you all enjoy!)
> 
> Someone told me this would be a good idea! (That was you Hatsepsut :P) This will update, well, when I'm not focusing on Heroes are made. There's going to be a lot of hard stuff in this story; Crows are not very nice and if you look hard at the Dragon Age background, Thedas isn't very nice either.
> 
> Forgive me, anyone out there who speaks Spanish better then I, and I will not doubt that you do, I'll do my best to keep things straight, but my Antivan is a butchery of Spanish and Italian, neither of I speak well (and in the case of Italian, at all) so if things don't make sense, well I don't intend for them too. There won't be as much as the story progresses, Ravan/Vasco is going to learn how to talk, and then everything will be in Antivan (and there for, nothing). That being said; if any terms I use are out of date, even better, I want them to be.
> 
> Oh and; our PC here has a bit of a bad mouth and… I really mean that. This is your one and only strong language warning.

01: Help Me I'm in Hell

I can't remember when it started raining, but then I can't remember when I ended up face down on the ground. Could have been hours ago, could have dragged me half way across town to beat me to death in some junkyard. That might explain the mud. The rain splashing on my face and the fucking mud in my mouth, _that's_ what woke me up. I cough, trying to spit out whatever shit I may have swallowed, and sit up. I get to my hands and knees.

" _E'un regalo del Hacedor_ ," Someone says with a laugh. I had about a whole second before that same someone kicks me in the gut and knocks me back down. Fuck me. Dumbass award goes to me for sure. I shouldn't have fucked with that _cholo_ , they always have lackeys and I know this shit, but I did, here's my reward, _fuck me._

Mud, so much damn mud. We were downtown a minute ago, last I remember. Fuck, I had to be in a bad mood, had to jump that guy for calling me out. Should have gone home, should have taken my stress out on that game I… borrowed.

Fuck, now they get to call me a thief on top of all the other shit they'll say about me.

" _Se ve mezzo muerto; es rota._ " Nope, not dead yet asshole. I don't speak Spanish very well or at all really, besides the things that everyone knows; how to curse someone out and a few words here and there. This was a second guy; I can't get a look at his face. Too busy trying to rub the dirt out of my eyes and, you know, fucking _breathe_. " _Tuo nombre, moccioso_?"

I didn't answer; I'm not sure what he said, it sounded familiar, but he pronounced it funny. He took offense to my silence and kicks me again. "Fuck you-" I gasp with what little air I had, rolling over and holding my stomach. Bastard.

"What is 'dis, did your mummy not teach you how to speak?"

"Fuck you _and_ your mom." No one ever accuses me of being able to pick my battles. I get another kick, but this time I manage to roll to my feet and struggle into something that isn't me lying half dead on the ground.

How the fuck was this guy so tall? I wasn't short, last time they forced me to stand there and get measured I was almost six feet. I never bothered to check again; most people were level or shorter than me and that's all that I really cared about. "Your name, _gilipollas."_

Fine, he wants Spanish, I can say about five things in Spanish real well and it rolls up into one nice little sentence too. " _Tu madre es un puta_."

I get my wish; piss him off so bad he goes bat-shit crazy on my ass. I try to fight back, but somewhere in that mess I realize I'm not as strong as I was before. I realize I'm not as tall and I felt -I don't know- fucking gangly. Did it take me that long to realize that I wasn't eighteen anymore? I hate to admit it. I also hate to admit I'm so fucking stunned by these thoughts that the guy kicks my ass so hard I think I black out for a minute.

Next thing I know, I'm being loaded up into some carriage thing like a sack of shit. I heard a horse, smelt the fucker, really. Who the hell uses horse and carriage?

Where the fuck was I?

I can't move. They don't care enough to tie me up, I was weak-sauce anyway, and they can flay me open if I even spat on their shoe. How did I get here? It isn't the most important question, but it's the one that was easier than having a fucking mental breakdown. I haven't been weak in almost 12 years, not since my dead-beat dad got put away for child abuse. That's my story in a nutshell.

I use to have this nightmare. I'd be seven years old again, my mom would be stoned out of this world and my dad would be tripping balls. My dad was angry though, always saying _I_ ruined his life, that things would be so much better if _I_ wasn't around anymore. The dick would beat me, in this dream, beat me to death and I'd wake up screaming. I had that dream for five years.

He wasn't around anymore. Someone called the cops on him when he cracked three of my ribs and broke my arm. Turns out guys in prison don't like pedos or kid-beaters, honor among fuckers I guess. I talk to my mom, sometimes, but all she's after is her next fix. They send her to rehab, and she gets right back out six weeks later saying she's clean. She always comes to me, promising she's better and we can live together again, but she always fucks up and I stay in 'care. I was in foster for years, but after what happened, I'll happily admit I hate the world and everyone in it. No one wanted to keep me, and I didn't want to stay with those fuckers anyway.

They finally sent me to this place, call it _Haven,_ for kids like me whose life is fucked and their attitude is even more so. It's run by some church or Christian group, I don't know and I don't fucking care. Point is, they get kids who are in foster for too long, set them up in school give them a place to stay and try to shove God down their throat. Don't get me wrong, I absolutely believe in God... And I absolutely hate the fucker. Heh. I also fucking love the movie _Pitch Black_ and you can bet that wasn't on the list of approved materials.

Thing is, once you're a legal adult, you can't stay at Haven anymore. I had maybe a week left and still no job; fuckers wouldn't hire me, _I_ wouldn't fucking hire me. Shows where my mood was. I spent all day turning in applications and trying _not_ to act like a dickwad, can't say I don't know myself; when this _cholo_ , a stereo typical one too -headband and everything- calls me out for walking on his turf. Fucking hell, it's the damn sidewalk, and I can walk it if I want to. Course, I tell him this shit to his face and he takes offense. I can take one guy, easy, high school was full of fights and fuckers trying to prove they could beat me, they never did, not unless they and a bunch of their buddies jump me in an alley, and that _has_ happened.

It happened this time too, only instead of a bunch of high schoolers, it's a fucking gang and they're wiping out the tire-irons. I'm not stupid; I booked it like my ass was on fire. I took a wrong turn and, bam. Bus.

I'm dead. I must be.

I can remember the look on the bus driver's face as he tried to slam on his breaks, not fast enough. I can remember laying on the ground, some whinny chick screaming. I shouldn't say that, she was probably the only person to try and help me, aside from that one other guy who called the cops when I was a kid. So. I'm dead.

This must be hell.

Fucking - if I would have known this place was actually _real_ I would of - aww balls, who am I kidding? I lay quite the entire time, only half wondering why they got horses in hell and why it's raining. Isn't the general idea of fire and torture and little men with pointy sticks laughing as they prod you with them? Well, they've got it wrong. Well, kind of. My guys lack the sticks, but they sure get a kick out of beating me up, fuckers picking on a kid.

My hell _would_ be that I was seven again and getting my ass beat for looking the wrong way. Fuck me.

I'm in a city. I can't see much, the rain is washing everything out, but I can almost make out the glow of lights and some people talking on the streets. A whole fucking city in hell, I can't believe it. I try to sit up, but the asshole not driving the horse kicked me in the chest and put me right back out on my back. He didn't even have to try and that burns me up even more. I got a look at his face this time, trying to rip it off with my eyes. He has one of those mustaches that look like you can hang something from it, but it was all droopy from the rain and a scar over his left eye. Watch out fucker, I got your number now.

It would be stupid to try again, but that's me, dumbass award. I sit up a few times, each time the guy knocks the wind from my lungs and lays me out. Finally the guy gets pissed enough he smashes my head against the wood and leaves me with my arms and head hanging over the side. I get a better view of the city, so hey, maybe not such a dumb fucker after all. Too bad it's dark and grey and washed out from the rain. I don't know, it doesn't look like I've gone to hell, even if it feels like it. Maybe that's the point.

The horse drags us out of the pretty part of the city and into a place I'm more familiar with. I can only say there was a change because instead of the nice trotting sounds of the horse's feet on stones; I get more mud splashed in my face. Fucking awesome. Other than that, and something that stinks and _isn't_ the horse, nothing really changes for a long time. I can hear waves, but the buildings are in the way, but it sounds like the ocean. Seriously, rain, a city and an ocean in hell? I'm starting to doubt everything the bible-thumpers ever told me.

God is still a fucker though, look where I am.

We finally stop. Faster than I can move, Scar-guy grabs me by my hair and throws me into the mud. I cough and spit, ready to stay something nasty when he pushes my head into the mud. I can't breathe, I try to hold my breath, but the dick waits me out. "Play nice now, _moccioso,_ or they'll gut you like a fish."

He drags me, still gasping for air and coughing up mud into a building and gives me one final kick into a room. I needed something, anything to hit, anything to fight. There was an unfortunate kid who was at the wrong spot at the wrong time. I crashed into him and took my frustration on _his_ scrawny ass, he ends up with a black eye before asshole-number-two pulled me off of him and gives me the other half of the beating he hadn't done in the carriage and I get shoved into a corner to lick my wounds.

There must have been a dozen of us, or more, packed into a room smaller than my bedroom at the haven. No one can sit without touching someone, but the other kids try their damnedest to give me as much space as possible. Good for them, I don't like being fucked with and it only took one unlucky kid for the lot of them to learn that.

The lights went out and the lot of us huddle in the dark with the thunder crashing outside like scared fucking mice. I finally realize I'm freezing my ass off, been stuck out in the rain for over an hour and left in wet cloths. It is pitch black in here, I can't see a thing unless a lightning bolt lights up the room, but I doubt the assholes would cram a bunch of kids into one room and give two shits whether they had blankets or not. I think I see a cat somewhere, its eyes shining in the dark, but the stupid thing is gone before I can figure out where it went. Damn I hate cats, stupid thing better not pee on me.

Fuck it; it would happen to me too.

Giving up, I lie down and face the wall, shaking from the cold. I won't even bother asking why I'm here, packed up and shoved around like damaged goods; I know why I'm here. I was a fucktard in life, and this is what I get for it. Not like I actually listened to the shit the dicks at Haven spewed for the last five years, but I don't know, it didn't feel like I was giving a fucking chance. What did you expect from a kid who's only seen the shit side of life? That I was going to dance up to some daddy-figure of a god with fucking stars in my eyes and tell him how much I love the dick? Shit no, it sounded too good to be true, so it was. I couldn't trust anyone, why would I trust a higher power that might not even be there? No fucking chance, no chance to grow the fuck up.

At least the devil had a fucking sense of humor that was for sure.

I try to sleep. It was about all I can do, but one boy coughs, another whimpers and a third sniffs back some tears and I kick at the wall in frustration. It doesn't help that I was still soaked and just about everything hurt. Teach me to run my damn mouth, wait, no it won't. I'm just complaining like a bitch now, but the floor is uncomfortable and I've slept on a few.

Some little fucker moved so quietly in the dark that I didn't notice him until his back was pressed up against mine. I might have jumped and nearly smacked my head against the corner I pressed myself into. Might have.

" _Acostúmbrate a esto, non c'è suficiente espacio para essere un cazzo,_ " He says. I didn't get a word of that.

"The fuck did you just say?" I've used up my Spanish knowledge for the day, and even if I didn't, one too many hits made it hard to think straight.

"There is not enough space for you to be a dick, get use to this." Little shit, I was about ready to punch him in the face when I realize it's the same kid I wailed on accident when they kicked me in here. Kid had balls, at least. "Why do you talk like the dwarves? Do you not know Antivan?"

"Dwarves? The fuck kid?" I snort. No fucking such thing as dwarves, hell or not, besides dwarves are too cool for eternal domination. "And what the hell is Antivan?"

"Your _accento_ , _cazzo_. Antiva is the land we are in, Antiva City. Antivan is the people and the language. Where did you come from, that you do not know these things?"

"California." I snap.

_"¿Qué es eso?"_

I might have learned something in French from a TV show a few years back, so that line actually makes sense to me. It isn't exactly the same, but it starts with 'que' and I can fill in the blank quick enough. Fuck anyone who says TV doesn't teach anything, Dr. Le Quack, Amnesia Specialist makes them fucking liars and he stole _la silverware_. "No place, nevermind. I don't know how I got here. Why are they keeping us here?"

The kid sighs. "You do not know? We have been sold to the Crows."

I was trying to ignore the fact that my voice was stupid high pitched. Trying and failing. You kind of forget what you sound like when you're a kid, hearing it now makes my ears hurt. Maybe that's why my fucker of a father couldn't stand me; I can barely stand me at this point. "I wasn't sold to anyone, and who the hell are the Crows?"

"I heard _cazzo_ ; they picked you off the street and thought you _un_ _omaggio_ , compliments from the Maker himself. I think they are regretting that now." The kid moves away, and I realize just how absolutely freezing it is in the room. I sit up and nearly jump out of my skin. His eyes are reflective, and it was him I thought had been a cat in the room. He laughs at me, obviously realizing that I've never seen creepy ass cat-glow eyes on anyone before, and apparently its normal, though I wasn't sure if my reaction was normal or his eyes were. A smile spreads on his face; even though it was starting to swell and bruise from the punch I gave him. Damn, make me feel like a... _cazzo_.

"Would you fucking stop calling me that?" I hiss looking away. He is pretty boy. Blonde hair and big eyes, girls would like him, makes me want to punch him again. I hate pretty boys; they made me feel like shit standing next to them. I have anger issues, hard to fucking notice if you ask me.

He's still smiling. I can see it out of the corner of my eye. Damn it kid, I really don't want to punch you again, but you're making it very hard to resist temptation. "You did not give your name to our new masters. They call you _cazzo_. Or Vasco. I find the last one funny."

"You would. What the hell does it mean?"

The kid crosses his arms over his chest, I try not to growl at him, it didn't work, but he doesn't seem to care. I like growling at people it sounds cool to me and freaks them out because it isn't something they'd expect a normal person to do, but I was never fucking normal. Kid doesn't care though and I can snarl and growl and twitch my lip all I want and he didn't bat an eye. At least one of the kids behind him flinches at it though and that was satisfying enough. I mentioned I'm normal. "These words you use, Vasco. _Fuck_ and _hell_. I do not understand them."

"Fuck is fuck," I say. If there's one thing I knew it's how to curse in ten different languages without actually saying a word and if his cat eyes is anything to go by, I bet he could see better than I can right now, my eyes are adjusted enough that I could make out the shapes of the other kids around us. I raise my left fist, slapping my bicep as I did it. The kid scoff, I know he understands and smirks. "And hell is the place you go when you die and you're a _cazzo_ like me. Now tell me what _vasco_ means before I fuck you to hell."

"The void." The kid snorts; now that he's talking to me he isn't impressed. I get that a lot. I just don't like people bothering me, those that do realize I'm only a dick because I try to be. The ones that care are usually the ones that get their face bashed in, so it never really matters in the end. "You go to the void when you die, when you're a cazzo that doesn't believe in the Maker. Vasco is an old word for Crow. You would not give your name so they named you instead."

"Well fuck me." I sigh, it was easy enough to guess that Maker was another word for God and religion was something everyone had. Course, I'm not sure why hell would have its own god and another hell on top of the one I was already in. I'm surprised the conversation had lasted as long as it did; I keep expecting this kid to do what everyone else did, decide I wasn't worth the effort and fuck off. "If you care, my name is Ravan."

"Raven?"

My back hits the wall. I don't care anymore. I'm tired and sore and apparently I've been bought and sold like day old meat. Not even, I got picked up off the streets like trash, kidnapped, not that anyone was there to fucking care. Story of my fucking life. "No, but that's pretty much the same thing next to Vasco, right?"

The kid doesn't look amused; I was a dead bird no matter what name I use so who gave a shit anyway, not us. "I am Zevran Arainai."

Crap, now I knew the kids name. That reminds me that I punched him in the face a few hours ago just because he was the closest thing to the door when they shoved me in here. I sigh, I hate knowing names I can forget the shit that I did to people easier if they don't have one. "Sorry about your face, Zevran. What are they going to do with us?"

"The Antivan Crows are an order of Assassins. We become as them or die. Neither sounds very pleasant." When people call themselves the Crows and say their assassins, all I can think of is how young these kids are. How young I am, and what they're going to do, exactly, to turn a group of fucking babies in to cold blooded killers.

I swallow, hard. Suddenly I was thankful that this kid, Zevran, I was thankful that Zevran stopped to talk to me, even after what I did to him. If he hadn't bothered, I'd be dead tomorrow. Fuck, I was already dead; I don't want to know what happens if you died again.

I don't have any fight in me and that's sobering. I always fight tooth and nail, simply because I can, to prove to myself I can. What am I going to do here? Seven-eight skinny as a twig and sold to a league of assassins who beat up little kids and make them kill for a living.

I must have gone pale, or sat quiet for too long because Zevran pats me on the shoulder, and I realize I was seeing right through him. "Go to sleep, Ravan Cazzo Vasco."

"Fuck you Zevran Arainai, good night." I lay down again, Zevran at my back. I was the only one who didn't know why I was there and Zevran had cured me of my stupid. Where the fuck was I? Where in the world was Antiva? It wasn't any place I knew, American schools were shit to begin with, and I was a shittier student, but I was willing to bet a lot there was no country called Antiva anywhere on the map. Even if there is, you could never convince me that something that sounded so much like Spanish was a totally different language. I mean, fuck, I pissed off that guy with the ' _your mother's a whore'_ line. Granted I won't put it pass the ass to kick _my_ ass no matter what I said, but he was downright pissed, so he _had_ understood me.

This isn't making any sense and the more I think about it the more I want to bang my head against the wall. I won't let them have me. I decide. I am a cazzo after all; they're going to regret picking up this piece of trash off the street.

I won't say I'm scared. It's cold with the rain even with Zevran at my back for some warmth, so I was shaking. The sniffling was because I'm already catching a cold stuck in wet clothing. I don't sleep though; I don't think any of us in that little room could.

Can't say I've had a longer night.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> E'un regalo del Hacedor - A gift from the Maker  
> Se ve mezzo muerto; es rota. - He looks have dead; he's rotten  
> Tuo nombre, moccioso? - Your name, brat?  
> gilipollas – douchebag  
> Tu madre es un puta - Your mother is a whore  
> un omaggio - A tribute
> 
> Cholo is an ethnic slur, about the equivalent of white-trash when applied to someone of Mexican descent, (yes, it's also used to describe those of mixed heritage, for those that know, but in America they don't use it for that reason, at least not while I was living in California, but I will admit that was almost a decade ago) as well as Chicano gang members.


	2. AfterLife

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations are at the bottom, but most of the Antivan is explained in context. You should be like Vasco and guess at what everyone's saying, its more fun! :)
> 
> Can you hear my evil laughter? I might have had too much fun with this…

 

02: Afterlife

The door smacked the wall with a crack that made everyone in the room jump out of their skin. It's Scarface again. The dumbasses shouldn't have bothered scaring the shit out of us at the crack of dawn, it's not like any of us had gotten any sleep anyway. He could have barged in at noon and had the same effect, and gotten a night's sleep out of it too.

" _Contra il pared, ora, mocciosi."_ My lip twitches, the fuck did he just say? Course, I'm about the only one who can't speak, so when everyone starts lining up against the wall, I get a clue and follow. One by one the kids are asked their name before being shoved out the door. I thought it sounded familiar last night. There're more than dozen of us, packed into this tiny room. I can't help but wonder how long they plan to keep us here. That’s when the roll call came to me.

 _"Proviamoci di nuevo. Tuo nombre, cazzo?"_ Shit, I should have seen this coming. I've got two choices and neither one of them is the right answer. Fuck me, I suck it up and brace myself.

"Ravan," I say.

Scarface backhands me. I mentioned I saw this coming, right? I threw my hands out and manage to keep my face from smacking the floor. My jaw hurts and I try to stand.

 _"Tuo nombre."_ The question was, would be beat me again for knowing the name they'd given me before _they_ told me? Fucking bet on it. I can play dumb, or I can be a smartass.

"Vasco." I'm a smartass; it's an illness, one that has Scarface cracking me over the head again, this time with his fist. I see stars and hit the ground hard. Nice way to start the morning. Brings back memories.

" _Quién te dijo eso, gilipollas?_ " He asks, wasn't hard to guess he was trying to make me give up my informant. He suddenly remembers that I couldn't understand him last night and kicks me when I'm down. I did mention memories, right? Too many. "Who told you this?"

I don't tell him, so the fucker kicks me again.

"Who!?" He snarls. I can hear the spit dripping down his ugly face. I killed the joy of him drawing out the beating, of being able to hit me every time I got the answer wrong so he's just wailing on me. This shit is actually easier to take if he can't drag it out, see, but he's so pissed all I can do is curls up in a ball and wait for him to finish, or black out first. Bastard's got nothing on my dad though; he used to take a broom to my back, ouch. Scarface gets tired before I do and drags me up by my hair. First chance I get I'm cutting that shit off.

"You will tell me." He hisses in my face. His breath smells like balls.

"I don't know," I lie right into his eyes. I wasn't going to rat on the one guy that helped me. "It was dark."

That part was the truth; I only recognized Zevran was the same kid because of the lightning flashes. Course, smartasses don't get off easy and my head hits the wall before he lets me go. I slump, a little daze, but nothings broken. They're pretty good about that, I guess paying for medical bills isn't in their budget. "Up, _gilipollas_."

I get up as fast as I could and my ass is shoved into the hallway. I'm not sure where to go, as the kid in front of me is long gone before Scarface let me go. I guess that closed doors are bad, and hope I'm going in the right direction.

I stumble a bit as I walk, they've been kicking the crap out of me for the last twelve hours, if I hadn't been so used to it I'd probably be fucking crawling right now. At one point I have to stop and catch my breath, bastard hit me pretty hard. I should really cool it with the smartass-ing, sooner or later I'm going to end up taking it too far and Scarface isn't going to hold back.

Lucky me the only open door leads to the kitchen, and there still a couple of kids lingering around. I was too busy getting the crap beat of me before to notice but this place is practically medieval and what I thought was a kitchen was little more than a few tables and a pot over an open flame. It didn't fit with my 'I'm dead and this is hell' theory. Seriously, were the fuck am I?

A woman is standing over the pot, scooping out spoon-fulls of soup and pouring them into small cups. She turns to me.

Fuck I'm staring, but I can't help it.

I mean, I'm not blind. Might be going crazy, but I'm not blind.

She's got these big old pointy ears, makes her look like a rabbit. What the fuck is going on here?

" _Qué stai fissando, idiota_?" She hisses. Shoving a cup into my chest and splashing me with hot water. Not hard to guess what she said.

"N-nothin'." Zevran mentioned dwarves. Maybe they do exist, I just laid my eyes on an-

"Never seen an elf before?"

"Ch'esus Christ." I snap. Course it has to be him sneaking up on me, the dumbass. Next time I'm punching him for sure. It was too dark to notice last night, but Zevran had those same pointy ears too. I try not to stare, but it's hard.

The cup in my hand has some soupy broth stuff. It's not even soup; it's just water with a bit of coloring. There was a few bits of what I thought might be vegetables, but they were too small to be even worth mentioning. Even that cup-o-noodle shit had more than this.

" _Qué_?" Fuck, forgot about that.

"Maker. Whatever." I say as we sit down in a corner. Everyone else stayed far away, and I glance at Zevran who only shrugs.

"I hear that's all they're going to give us." Zevran says point to the cup that was already cold. _Fuck_ …

"You seem to hear a lot, don't you?" He grins tapping his ear.

"They are not for decoration, you know." I'm not looking at him; in fact I'm trying not to look at anyone. It's too fucking weird. Most of the kids here have those pointy ears Zevran and the cook do, not all of them, but a lot to realize they have a preference for... _elves_.

I've seriously run out of swear words to describe my situation, I just- this- I can't even- _Ugh_.

Zevran frowns crossing his arms over his chest. "I could almost understand you not hearing of a dwarf, but elves? We are all over the place."

"I was sheltered." I say and knock back the slosh they call food. It's no good. I'm going to be hungry again in like five minutes. Don't know why hell has food at all, must be part of the torture.

This place is packed with scrawny kids, not just from the room I spent the night in; it was like every one of those doors has a pack of kids. I only see a few older kids though. If there are more than two kids in the room passed sixteen I'll be surprised.

"They're going to weed us out, strongest of us get to stay." I mumble more to myself then to him. "Wonder what happens to the kids that don't make it."

"They're dead, or worse." I wonder what's worse than being dead, but then, I'm here, aren’t I? "The Crows don't leave anything to chance."

"Question is… is it one per group?" Zevran doesn't answer that and I don't blame him. We're both thinking the same thing, I bet. If it's between me and him, well. I'm not fucking dying. Not again, anyway.

I'm kind of hoping they're flexible though. Hate to beat the shit out of the kid again, he's pretty decent.

"You're pretty observant," Zevran says, and then adds. "When you wish to."

"I have to watch my own back a lot," I tell him ignoring the other half.

" _Di qué stai hablando?_ " He spits and I can only stare and wait for him to realize he was speaking crazy again, wait, sorry, _Antivan._ "We are the same age from what I can see. You are speaking as if you're like that old man that would come into the brothel and bother the whores."

" _What_?" I ask, feeling rather stupid, but seriously, what's a kid doing in a fucking whore house. "A whorehouse?"

He shakes his head with a half-smile, yes, that’s the thing I got out of that, stop looking so damn smug. "The Crows don't often get gifts from the Maker. Most of us are born in such places and later sold to them."

"Wait-wait- Why would your mom an-" Huh, whorehouse, stop that thought. "-Let you get sold off like that?"

It's probably the first time I haven't seen a smartass smirk on this kid's face. Damn, I wouldn't have asked if I knew how sensitive a topic it was. "Mine did not have a choice, or rather, she's not around to stop it."

"Shit Zevran, sorry." What else can I say? That he's kind of lucky? That my mom is - was? - a drug addict who never lifted a finger to stop my dad from beating the crap out of me? That she goes in and out of rehab like it's a drive-thru? So at least his mom can't make promises and break them every single fucking time?

Fuck. Don't look at me. Just don't fucking look.

"It is nothing; most everyone here has a similar story," Zevran says, "Or is yours as different as it seems to be?"

I shake my head, trying to pretend nothings bothering me. "Its- Uhh, if I say I don't remember…"

"Oh come now, how did you end up on the side of the road?"

I groan, oh there's that. For about three seconds I'd forgotten that I was dead, thanks Zevran, and thanks a lot. Oh, you wanna hear the story? I got hit by a fucking bus. What's a bus? Oh it's this big metal thing that people ride around in. While I'm at it let me explain cars and planes and electricity and skyscrapers and _fuck._ Yes, let me just tell you everything because I want to be thrown in a mental hospital faster than I can blink. No thanks. He sighs when I don't answer.

" _Diteme_ ," he presses. "Tell me."

"You'll just think I'm crazy and we have enough problems without adding that to this fucking shit we're in." I growl and he rolls his eyes. Then again, I'm talking to a seven year old. Maybe he'd actually believe me, at the very least maybe no one would believe _him_.

"Too late." Stop doing that Zevran, I really will hit you.

I don't. I don't tell him either.

But that was only because some punk-ass decided to splash a cup of the shit they were feeding us in my face. I wipe the stuff of my face shaking the drops off on his bare feet before standing.

He's one of those older kids I'd noticed earlier, trailed by s small scrawny ass kid. Kind of reminds me of Zevran, if only for the fact that I got the kid following me around too. Only I'm pretty sure Zevran could cut me lose if he cared enough too. This little bitch's too dependent on the fucker in front of me for that. Speaking of, he spits at me like he's tough shit. He's not the eldest, but he's got about a year on me. I was waiting for someone to fuck with me. It was probably the calmest I've been in days. This I know how to handle, here I know what to do.

"Problem?" I say. Here's hoping everyone knows how to speak English as well as this Antivan shit.

The kid laughs in my face. " _Stanno diciendo que tuo hai le palle ottenuto._ "

"The others are talking about you," Zevran tells me, though the kid is still sitting down. He probably doesn't want to get tangled up in a fight. I don’t blame him, but I'm dying to be the one that pummels the shit out of someone for once. Anger issues, get a fucking clue.

" _Non saben perché hanno miedo, se pareces come Ferelden basura a mí._ "

"He doesn't know why the others are afraid of someone who looks like Ferelden trash."

Ferelden? The fu- dear god am I sick of this shit, never _fucking_ mind. "Is that an insult?"

"It is intended to be." I should really just assume the answer is yes and move the fuck on. Save us all some time.

The punk-ass snorts. He might be older, but I haven't survived street fights by not being able to size a guy up. I can take him, but it doesn't look good if his little bitch behind him joins in. Scrawny as he is, I've had one too many beatings today. "So what's the problem."  
  
Here's hoping I can leave the ass out of smart-ass this time.  
  
" _Non può nemmeno hablar y viene qui como se es duro,_ " He says his arm crossed over his chest, he was trying to look down at me, but he didn't have much height, if any on me and I don't take that shit. His little bitch nodded silently behind him, not that Punk-ass could see. " _Necesita di aprender come se fanno las cosas qui._ "  
  
"He's threatened by you," Zevran says with a grin. "He wants to knock you down before you're better then him."  
  
" _Non è quello ditto!"_ Punk-ass was spitting mad, I could see his face going red. God this kid knew how to read people. Thanks Zevran. I'm going to start having to tally up what I owe this kid.  
  
"Maybe not out loud," I say. I'm not entirely brainless, all the time, give me some credit. "But you've got coward written all over your face. You and your buddy are gonna gang up on me, right? Cheap. Won't prove anything like that.  Well, Come at me."  
  
I shrug like I don't really care what he does and that makes him stop talking shit and face me.

" _Rimani_ _retro_ ," He tells the smaller kid and the little bitch shuffles away like a mouse. I feel like I'm waiting forever for Punk-ass to pull up the nerve before he finally starts swinging.

He's slow.

He doesn't think I know how to fight back. He goes high, I go low and my elbow is in his stomach. It's nice to know I'm stronger then I fucking feel, considering ol' Scarface's been kicking my ass to hell- …hell and back. He doubles over and I shove him on his ass. I didn't think he would, but he jumps up and tries again. He's just a kid, I'm thinking, and as much as I want to it isn't in me to kick his ass seriously. Fucking shit. This time I catch his arm, hook his ankle with my foot and yank him off balance. Hah, the look on his face. He's wondering how the ground and sky switched places so fast.

Come on kid, stay down. He's up a third time and he's finally serious. His hands are up in front of his face and he's crouching just a bit. Some of the other kids that were wandering about are beginning to take notice and stare.

Fine, now we're actually playing.

But, Punk-ass doesn't know how to play the game. He has a lot of the basics, sure, but the way he kept shuffling back and forth like some deranged crab; dumbass thinks he knew what he was doing. He's probably, what? Eight, nine? How much did they really teach him in that time? My money is on not much.

He's slow as shit and I have years of practice.

Before he realizes what happened, my knee is in my gut and as he doubles over, again, in pain my palm smashes him in the face. I don't have a lot of muscle to back it up, I was scrawny as a kid, and I guess I still am, or am again. Point is bones fucking hurt and I felt his nose break. I let him fall hard, wiping the blood off on my shirt as he groans. I nudge him in the ribs with my foot, but I won't kick a kid when he's down. I've had too much of that shit happening to me. He's not getting up and his mouse friend is working on helping him back up, looking at me with his eyes as wide as a plate. I ignore them both.

"Anyone else?" A few kids shuffle aimlessly, intimidated that I just look at them. No one steps up, smart. More for me then for them, I don't think I've got another fight in me, or to find out what they do for infighting… Probably more of the same shit I've gotten. I don't think I can take another beating quietly. I turn back to Zevran, still sitting on the floor like this happens all the time. "Have you heard if we're stuck inside?"

" _Non,_ I saw a few head out that way." He motions to another hall way opposite the one we came in from.

I turn to go, I don't see the cook anymore, and I wonder when she left. "Coming?"

"You care to have me along?" I roll my eyes.

"I like knowing when someone's insulting me," I tell him. "And no one will fuck with you if you're with me."

"And when you no longer need a translator?"

"Should hope I don’t," I say turning around, but I'm watching him out the corner of my eye to see if he'll come.

Zevran smiles, "…You are easy, Vasco."

I flinch a bit at the name; it's going to take some getting used to. "Don't get used to it, I'm about to make things fucking complicated."

One hall way leads to another and another after that. Closed doors line each side and we put our wiseasses to good use and don't try to open any of them. The last door is open and I have to squint in the sunlight.

It's hot out. L.A. is like a million degrees without a cloud in the sky, so I'm use to the hot, but not humid, and the smell. God, this is hell. Ugh. "What stinks?"

"We're near the leather making district." Zevran tells me as if it's fucking obvious. I guess it would be, if I'd known what planet I was on in the first place. I count to three so I don't smack that smirk off his face and might have made a face.

"Smells rancid." I'm whining like a bitch, sue me.

"Yes, well, decaying flesh and all."

This time I can't help elbowing him in the ribs, a bit harder than friendly. That's me, way too fucking rough. "Smartass."

"Talking to yourself?" He replies with that same smirk, but he's rubbing his side like it hurt so I don't say anything else.

There's more kids out here than in the kitchen area and a few more of different ages, though I still can see the pyramid shape they make if I try to count them. Some are playing games; others are scuffing with each other. They remind me of grade school, sort of, but I don't pay much attention.

There's no wall or fence keeping any of us in this little backyard.

"What's keeping us from running away?" I ask. Zevran hits my arm and hushes me. I'm about to snap at him when I notice what he's staring at. A man is crouching on the roof of a nearby building. He moves just slightly and the sun glints brightly off something, directly into my eyes. I doubt this guy can hear that good, but he obviously knew what _I_ said. Don't need fences, is what he's telling me.

Trust me buddy, I got the fucking message.

" _Mingherlini_." It's Scarface. I didn't think about it before, but he can probably guess Zevran was the one that told me my new name. So much for being smart, I just hope he's forgotten about it and doesn't take the shit out on Zevran. A few of the youngest kids are already clustered by him. He's looking my way. Somehow I don't think he's forgotten.

"That's us," Zevran says.

"I got that," I mumble. Shit, can't I go a few _minutes_ without someone looking to bust my balls? No such luck. Me and Zevran join the group of frightened kids, most of them give me one look and shuffle away nervously. Scarface doesn't look too happy about that, I can tell by the evil eye he's giving me. Shit, I'm fucked.

" _Perché_ , I do not wish to repeat myself, and that one," He just his chin out in my direction, "Does not seem to understand Antivan, I am saying this in Trade."

Cool, so English isn't English here. At least I don't have to make an ass of myself by saying it. Fuck you, Scarface and thanks for the info.

"Your first year here will be about survival," Scarface goes on. "If you last that long, you will begin true training as a Crow.

"… And here is your first test." His face makes an evil smiling face, it makes my stomach turn, or maybe that’s the slosh they fed us. Shit, I wonder if I can get Montezuma's Revenge in hell, sounds like a wonderful way to make things fucking worse. "It ends at nightfall."

He gives a short whistle and every other kid drops what they're doing and turns to our little group.

They run at us.

Cluster-fuck, that’s what we are right now. Scarface brought us right in the middle and we're already surrounded before we can blink. Shit, this is worse than any gang fight I've been in. I'm having a hard time trying not to get knocked over and pinned down. None of us know each other, except me and Zevran; I don’t know who's who when the fighting starts and I don't know who to hit and who not to. I've already lost sight of Zevran too; shit there's no helping him if I can't find him.

I try damn it, I really do, but there's too much shit going on. One kid gets piled on by six other kids and he's screaming like their ripping him apart. Half of me wants to help him, but the other half is more concerned with my own ass which is in serious hot water. Sorry, you're on your own.

I'm still looking for Zevran as I knock one kid that charges me into another who had his back to me like a dumb ass. Oh shit, he might be one of the newer kids. Didn't think of that. It's no one I know, and I forget about it, see, that trick actually works.

No Zevran, damn it, nowhere! Fuck I hate that. Right after I told him no one would mess with him with me around. Corse this shit is out of my control but still. Fuck! Damn it!

It's a good thing there's only a few older kids -I mean the 15-16 year olds- around, else this would be shitier then shit. Some kid tries to jump me, but I grab him by his arm and spin him off his feet and his face hits the ground. I have to get out of here, there's too many people here and I can't take them all. I remember the watchdog on the roof though, and think leaving might be a bad idea, but I'm going to get my ass kicked if I stay. Hell, Punk-ass said they've got my number; they're probably going to try and kill me.

" _Corre_!" Oh good, someone was thinking the same thing I was. I don't feel like such a bitch for running now. Fuck it.

I throw my shoulder into the ribs of a kid, I'm not sure who he is, but he goes down hard and he's the only one in my way to an alley way. I glace up just a second, and watchdog isn't there anymore, but that doesn't mean he's not there at all. I'm not the only one who's taking off. I see another smaller kid running off in front of me. He makes it to the alley with on one stopping him, but there's two more older kids hot on his tail.

Fucking hell these kids are fast!

There's more kids coming out from inside too, shit!

Sucking it up, I book it.

And I thought L.A.'s back roads were a maze. Here every building is so close together it's hard to pass without bashing into a wall. I can hear someone, at least one, behind me and I put all my energy in to getting as far away from them as possible. I even throw myself around random corners, any direction, trying to lose them, but they obviously know this fucking city better than me.

Suddenly there's people all around me. I didn't expect this place to be so populated, but was nothing compared to tourist season. It's like I've walked right into Main Street, like I'm back home.

Someone blares a horn. I can breathe.

I might have panicked a second. I thought another bus was coming. I think after what's been happening I'm allowed a flashback or two. Fuck off.

Shit, the kid is on my ass. I dodge into the jumble of people.

" _Guardalo_!" Some lady shouts when I almost run her over. Fuck you lady, they're trying to kill me! I just hope there's enough of a crowd that they don't see me duck back into an alley on the other side. I keep running. The main street is far behind me, or at least I think it is. I took a few turns and try not to run myself in a fucking circle, but-

My back hits the wall. I try to hold my breath long enough to hear if anyone's coming.

Shit someone's coming. Or that could be my heart in my ears. Shit- fuck- I can't tell. I keep moving. Slower this time. I make it out to another street, and try not to get noticed as I join the crowd.

Stalls line the streets, with merchants trying everything to draw any attention. Most of their stuff looks useless, course, I can't understand what they were saying, so maybe it isn't, I don't know. Christ, I've never seen so many colors in once place. It's a flea market right out of a third world country. Never thought this was a real thing, something from a movie, you know? It is pretty cool though, aside from the evil eye I keep getting when the merchants actually took notice of me. One guy looks like he's ready to throw something at me when I walk too close. I hold my hands up so he could see them. Hey fucker, I'm not here to steal.

Course, the thought crosses my mind.

See, the food, even though I couldn't name any of it, reminds me that they didn't give us anything to eat. Fuck, I knew I'd be hungry in a minute and trying to snag something is really, really tempting. Made me wish Zevran was around to run distraction, I bet he'd be good at it. _Shit_ , I ditched the guy. I hope he thought of running before I did. Hell, I hope he was the one that told everyone _to_ run. Would make me feel better.

That makes me think about going back, and I wonder if I could even find my way. Hell, I wonder why I'm even thinking of going back in the first place. It's not like they can keep track of every kid that ditched the playground, can they? They _are_ a group of assassins and they basically took role call this morning before we were even let out of that room. Shit. I'm probably being followed right now.

Course, I can just be paranoid, but now every stray noise is someone around the corner, and not just the brats from that apartment place-thing.

Well, whatever. They're just going to have to drag my ass back. I couldn't find my way back myself even if I wanted to, anyway and all I have to do is not get caught before nightfall. That was only, what, twelve hours? Easy.

Course, that’s what I was thinking until someone spotted me.

No, no, see. I'm just thinking; Gee Ravan -sorry, _Vasco_. Give me a break I'm not use to it yet- Gee Vasco,there sure aren't a lot of other kids about. I mean, it's obviously a big, _populated_ city, you'd think you'd see a few little ones running around somewhere.

Then I remember what Zevran said, that most of the kids in the house are bought, and the fact that we're all about the same age.

So it gets me thinking, because _sometimes_ I'm pretty damn observant, that the Crows must do this on a yearly basis, buying kids and bringing them to that house. Then, the next day, if my experience is anything to go by, they sick the older kids on the younger ones and weed out the weakest ones quick and simple. Course, if this happens all the time, then the city knows about it, talking about it isn't necessary, and the parents that actually care about their children, not us road kill or whorehouse wash off, tuck their kids safely inside and don't let them out. Kind of like some morbid holiday.

That's when I notice some kids nearby looking my way. Sometimes I'm observant, sometimes.

Then I thought of something else; if this is a regular thing no one's going to think twice about letting some kid be beaten to death in the middle of the street. There's three of them and they're gunning for me, I can see it in the whites of their eyes. Shit, they're too close.

Fuckin' A. Seriously. I hate being right.

I think the guy behind the stall knows what I'm going to do before I do. It didn't stop the mind-blown look from crossing his face when I kick the leg of the stall out and send all the weird food crashing to the floor. I stopped long enough to see the kids slow and one trip and face-plant before taking off down an alley. I still hear them coming. Damn it, I know I can't take them all. I hate running like a scared bitch, but I'm not stupid. If I knew this city better I could try to split them up, buy I don't so my only chance is to ditch them.

I should really pay more attention to were I'm fucking going. But who decided it was a good idea to leave a ten foot drop at the end of the road? Someone needs to smack the guy who designed this place.

It's got a killer view of the ocean, I'll say that. Kind of knocks my 'help me I'm in hell' theory out though. Who ever heard of an ocean in hell, and not some morbid blood red one either; this one's just as blue as the Atlantic. I can even see the sails of the boats from here. Huge ones, very Columbus style. I paid attention to the pictures in school they were far more interesting than the wind bags up at the front, sue me.

The city is even more tightly packed below me then the area I was just running through, I can barely see the spaces between the buildings, and I'm standing right above it all. I really didn't want to try and work my way through that mess. I don't have a choice. They've spotted me. Damn it. I'm really not with it today.

I don't have anywhere else to go but down. Fuck my luck. Somebody wish me a happy landing.

Jump damn it, jump-

The tiles shatter under my shoulders when I hit the roof below and I slide down. I try to grab the edge before I fall off completely, but those tiles crack too and I crash down. The ground was muddy from the night before, and I thought the leather district smelt bad. I try whipping the mud off my face, but my hands are covered in shit and I just and more too it. Fuck it all. I get up and run before the kids catch up to me. I don't think they're coming, but you know, bitch runs to fight another day.

Fucking shit, if I had any hope of finding my way back myself it's gone now. Maybe they'll forget about my sorry ass. I wish.

I'm lost for hours. Seriously, where the fuck am I? I'm getting really sick of that question. Nothing down here is as densely packed –people wise- as the other side was. The buildings are so tall in some places I can barely see the sky. There's a lot of workers about, beefy guys that would take my scrawny ass to town if I look at them funny. That's half of why I'm so damn lost, I have to keep my eyes to the ground and hope I'm going wherever.

Least no one's found me, I guess that's alright.

The sun's almost down. I only know that because I managed to find my way to the docks. I've never seen ships like this, up close anyway. They were huge things with big white sails. The masts are so tall I can't imagine anyone climbing to the top and not falling. I guess it happens once in a while.

I try and stay out of the way and just watch as they load up the last of the day's cargo and pack up the ship to get moving in the morning, most of the guys don't pay me any mind. Most of them.

" _Un degli esclavos fuga?_ " It took me a minute to look up and realize they were talking to me. I hate not having Zevran around to translate for me. I don't say nothing and try to walk away.

Try too. Another beefy guy blocks my way. He grins; his teeth are yellow and broken. " _Creo que sí._ "

"Leave me alone." I say and try again to keep walking. Try. They stop me again.

" _Non creo questo si habla Antivan._ " No shit Sherlock I _can't_ speak Antivan, thanks for pointing that out. " _Debe essere un schiavo._ "

" _Debe essere._ " The toothy guy agrees.

Next thing I know the guy has me thrown over his shoulder like a sack of shit.

"Let me go!" I snarl and knee him in the face. I think I break what's left of his teeth because he dropped me clutching his face with both hands. I hit the ground running, but the other guy tackles me before I make it ten feet. My head smacks the ground as I twist onto my back, but I'm used to this shit. The guy is grabbing at me, trying to pin my arms and legs down. So I head butt the fucker between the eyes. I have to scramble back to my feet, but he's dazed and I'm only dizzy. No much better, but at least I can keep moving.

Course, I forgot about broken teeth guy and before I know it he's got my wrist in one fist and is shoving me forward, towards one of the boats. They're mad as fuck right now. I can almost see the steam coming out of their ears. I'm still trying to fight, but they've got no trouble lifting me up off my feet and that death grip on my hands won't let up.

Sherlock stops walking, and Broken Teeth who doesn't have an original thought in his ugly head stops too. He doesn't know what to do when Sherlock falls over, like he can't see the blood staining his shirt. I find the guy who did it standing in front of us and kick the guy behind me in the shin to get his attention. The moron didn't even feel it. "Hey dumb ass, over there."

" _Egli pertenece ai Crows._ " They guy says. I knew they were following me, fuckers. A stalker and a killer, fantastic. Broken Teeth goes white as a sheet and lets me go. I go to run again, but my Killer Stalker's already got my arms pinned before I can blink. Fucking hell these people are quick. I have no choice but to go where he shoves me. It isn't until we reach a flight of stairs that I realize there's easy ways up and down. I might have been running for my life but, God I feel like a dumbass.

Well, now I know where this place is. Whoopee-fucking-doo.

I can hear shouting before we even get inside. The two men, one being Scarface, fuck I'm screwed, turn as the door opens and the big guy in fancy clothing, points at me. " _Egli è quello! Egli rovinato mis puesto dell'alimento y se rubato i mis productos! Exijo un compensación!_ "

" _Es la verità_?" Scarface is looking my way.

"I'd love to defend myself, but I have no idea what he's saying."

He looks like he wants to hit me, but that would require walking over here. "Not you, _cazzo_."

" _El puesto è molesto, ma nulla fue rubato._ " Fucking hell, he's been following me all day. Did they do this to every kid? Or am I just the lucky little fuck who doesn't know his place yet?

"Take him to the post," Scarface said so I could understand. "Ten lashes."

Wait, lashes? They're going to whip me? See, this is more of what I was expecting when I got here. Fucking shit did I fight against this guy, but no matter how many times I beat at his shin or slammed my head into his ribcage, he didn't feel a thing. He pushed me along just as easily as Broken Teeth did; only this guy was like, a third of his size. He calls out to another guy, who comes out of a small shed with rope and a whip. Fuck, fuck, fuck, _fuck._

I can't stop them from cutting off my shirt with a knife or from binding my hands and pulling them above my head. The knot locks on a hook on the wooden pole in front of me I try to see what's going on, but I can't turn.

The whip cracks the air before it hits me.

I scream.

I can't help it. I scream like a fucking girl. This is so much worse than the broom handle. At least that could only bruise; I can feel the whip ripping into my skin. I twist and scream and fight with everything I have to get that knot off that hook, but nothing helps.

"Stop moving _cazzo_ , if I get anything other than your back I have to start again." Sometimes I'm smart; I really don't want him to start over again. The whip cracks again. My back is on fire and I can't keep standing. He waits until I stop panting and the next three come one after another.

Someone splashes water in my face.

"You have to stay awake." You could at least let me have a drink ass face. The seventh one makes me passes out again. Finally he's at ten; at least I think he is. I can't remember the last two. They unhook my hands and I fall. I can't stand on my own so Stalker, I think its Stalker, I can't tell, drags me back inside. "This is the only price we will pay for a _regalo,_ be thankful you had this chance."

Second night in a row I get shoved into a room and hit the floor. This time I can hardly move. Some of the other boys gasp, they must see my back. Fuck, is it really that bad? Hurt's like it's that bad. I struggle to my elbows and knees just as the lights go out and the door slams shut. I have to stop every few seconds to catch by breath. Shit, I'm never going to get to my feet. I'm not weak, I'm not.

Someone touches me and I fall over trying to beat them back. "We need to stop meeting like this."

Dear fucking God, its Zevran.

"Hey man," I choke. This time he helps and I don't fight it. Together I make it to our little corner. There's less kids in the room tonight. I'm in too much pain to count. "Where've you been?"

"I was the first one gone." He snorts. That really did make me feel a whole lot better. "I did not get the chance to warn you, I did not know this would be today."

"So'kay." I grunt lying down. God, it hurt so bad. Please don't wake me up till next year; I think I'm good on the torture. Zevran lies down in front of me. I don't blame him, I'm glad I don't have eyes in the back of my head. I wonder how he can stand being so close to me. He says he can hear good, and I can't keep my breath from coming out ragged or from whimpering every time something twinges in my back. I know he's not asleep. "Zevran, do you know what addiction is?"

 _"Dipendenza_? _Si,_ I know this." He says softly. "There is a plant, a root I think, it causes _alucinaciones…_ fantasies? Mm, anyway. It makes one's teeth perfectly white. Some of the whores used it just for that reason."

Wow, I wasn't expecting that.

"Well… my mom was addicted to something like that. It made her forget where she was." I can't tell him everything, it just won't make sense and I don't have it in me to explain it all. "She'd always promise she'd get better, that she'd stop. She'd be fine for a little while, but then she'd start using again."

"How did the Crows find you?" I sigh. It's a bit harder to explain.

"I was running." There, that's a good start. "… I was tired of the lies. Of my father beating me up because he was in a bad mood. Maybe I got trampled by a horse?"

I frown, it was as close to 'hit by a bus' as I could get. "I… mean it when I say I can't remember."

Meaning, I don't know how I got here, but hey, seven-year-old.

"At least the whores only beat me if I broke something." I try not to laugh; it hurt my back too much. "By the way, Vasco, stay away from the docks. They'll sell you to Tevinter, and that is worse than being a Crow."

I cough. "Little late for the warning."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contra il pared, ora, mocciosi. – Against the wall, now, brats.  
> Proviamoci di nuevo. Tuo nombre, cazzo? – Let's try this again. Your name, dick.  
> Quién te dijo eso? – Who told you that?  
> Qué stai fissando, idiota? – What are you staring at, idiot?  
> Qué – What  
> Di qué stai hablando? – What are you saying?  
> Diteme – Tell me.  
> Stanno diciendo que tuo hai palle ottenuto. – They're saying you've got balls.  
> Non saben perché hanno miedo, se pareces come Ferelden basura a mí. - Don't know why they're scared, you look like Ferelden trash to me.  
> Non può nemmeno hablar y viene qui como se es duro. - Can't even talk and he comes in here like he's tough.  
> Necesita di aprender come se fanno las cosas qui. - Needs to learn how things are done here.  
> Non è quello ditto! – That's not what I said!  
> Mingherlini – Weaklings  
> corre – run!  
> Guardalo! – Watch it!  
> Uno degli esclavos fuga? - Did one of the prisoners escape?  
> Non credo questo si habla Antivan. - Don't think this one speaks Antivan.  
> Debe essere un schiavo. - Must be a slave  
> Debe essere. - Must be.  
> Egli pertenece ai Crows. - He belongs to the Crows.  
> Egli è quello! Egli rovinato mis puesto dell'alimento y se rubato i mis productos! Exijo un compensación! – He's the one! He ruined my food stand and stole my goods! I demand compensation!  
> Es la verità? – This is truth?  
> El puesto è molesto, ma nulla fue rubato. – The stand was ruined, but nothing was stolen.


	3. Faint

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This and every chapter is for Hatsepsut.  
> In really, really awesome news, NPiH has gotten fan art! I'm so blown away I can't even get over it! Here's the link if you wanna stare at Ravan/Vasco;  
> Nayazeph (dot ) tumblr (dot) com (/) image (/) 102210100285  
> Yes, that’s also my tumblr account that is dedicated to absolutely everything Zevran. :) There may or may not be spoilers if you happen to follow Heros Are Made. I haven't decided if they're canon yet. XD

I don't remember falling asleep, but damn was it blissful not being in pain for a few hours.

Honestly, I didn't expect to wake up. Personally, I wouldn't have been surprised if I'd gotten an infection out of this, hallucinated for a few days and died of blood poisoning or some flesh eating virus. Someone must like me a little bit. They probably considered it for a while, but nope, I'm still here. Fuck you, whoever you are. Right on time, here comes Scarface at the crack of dawn smashing the door against the wall. I still didn't catch what he said, not like it mattered much to me at the moment.

Holy Fuck, my _back_.

Moving was probably the most painful thing I've had to do. Every little twitch tore open the new scabs on my back, I'd check to see if they were bleeding again, but that would just add to the agony.

Come on hell, is this all you got?

Shit, five minutes and I'm barely sitting up and I feel like I've run a marathon. Scarface isn't doing a roll call; most of the kids are looking around like lost little sheep. They didn't want to go outside, and I didn't blame them. What's to say there wasn't another beat down waiting for them out there? No one was brave enough to go out there first. Someone had to be a guinea pig, lucky them I was pretty good at being the stupid one that goes first.

Unlucky, I could hardly stand.

I know I was being a dumbass, my back must look like a B-grade horror movie, but I'm on my feet, finally. _Might_ have stumbled a little, but damn if I don't feel like a bad ass walking through that door way. The scared little mice are hiding behind me in the only safe room in all of... uh, Antiva, right. Anyway, I didn't care much for them, only the pointy-eared little shit who was shaking his head, probably at me. "You coming?"

I really didn't wait all that long for an answer, but who's proud as fuck when not only Zevran, but all the little mice trial along behind him? This guy.

The kitchen is mostly empty by the time I got there. Jesus Christ, twenty-four hours going on nothing but a mouthful of water-ed down nothing, the thought of food had my stomach whimpering like a sad puppy. I was more thirsty than anything else, really. The same cook-lady was there passing out bowls.

"Can I get some water or something?" I ask, but she only looked at me funny. I sigh, what was Antivan for water? Screw it. I take the bowl, swallow, hand it back to her and walk away. It's bright as fuck again outside, is it too much to ask for a cloud? Just one? Sure it is.

Moving hurts, leaning against the wall hurts, trying to sit down? That’s fucking out of the question. Bastards couldn't give me a damn shirt after they cut the old one off? This is shit, seriously. I don't recommend it.

_"Oh, in modo que il cestino finalmente trascinato a cabo. Urlare como una ragazza, sabías? Tuptti oírle piangere."_ Well look at that, more _shit_. It's Punkass.

"Should have seen this coming, course you'd be here." Damn it, sometimes I'm too much of a dumbass for my own good. I tricked him into a fair fight that he couldn't win, so of course he'd want to take a piece out of me the moment I couldn't fight back and just his luck it sweeps in the very next day. I should have stayed inside. God _damn it._

I don't see his little bitch anywhere around, but I bet my sorry ass he's around somewhere.

There are kids watching, they've already started gathering around. They know as well as I do this is going to be fucking _awesome._ Not for me of course. Damn it, I get to put on a show as my last stand as badass on campus. If I ever was badass on campus, personally I'm starting to see this as one big joke at my expense.

_"Il non è difficile ora. Non siquiera dell'aiuto de Salvail per esto."_ I wish this kid would get a clue that I could only understand about one word in a thousand or so. I think he's doing it just to mock me, fuck what am I saying? Of course he is.

"Yeah, yeah, _non_ see-care-a del _-_ whatever," I grumble, there's enough kids watching that they've formed a circle around us. Even if I wanted to, I can't make a run for it anyway. Where would that get me anyway? Turning into once of the little mice back at the room, too afraid to go outside in case he's waiting out there? I'm not a coward, not usually anyway. Naw, if I have to do down, I'm going down swinging.

"You've got me. You an' I both know I can't win this. So come at me, give me your best shot, and don't hold back," I tell him, trying to sound badass. My voice is still squeaky in my ears; I don't think I accomplished it, "but if you don't put me down today, I swear one day I'll get you and you'll never see it coming."

Some of the kids were whispering back and forth, probably translating what I said to the others. I guess not everyone spoke this Trade shit fluently here, nice to know I'm not the only one confused some times, even if their on the other side. Punkass comes at me tries to ram his shoulder into my chest. Fucking hell does it hurt so bad throwing him off, I know I stagger, and take too long to recover and he's already swinging hard at my face. I duck and something- _someone-_ smacks me hard on the back.

The pain is unbelievable. I stumble, and turn just long enough to see Punkass' little bitch standing behind me a sick little smile on his face before I'm on the ground. Dirt and rocks in fresh whip-wounds is so much worse than it sounds. I can't stop Punkass from sitting on my chest; rocks digging into my back. I try not to cry out from the pain and only succeed in biting my tongue. It's worse than any jagged knife, because there's fucking hundreds of them and someone's giving them a good twist. Punkass punches three times and after that I lose count. Every time he moves, my back is set on fire again as something else digs in somewhere. Hell, I can't do shit as he beats the daylights out of me, I can only stare at him.

I've already died. I've already been through hell even before coming here. I'm not about to let some stupid kid get the best of me after all the shit I've had to go through, but what the fuck can I do but take it? I stare at him, every hit I grit my teeth and lock eyes with the punk. He's scared; I can see it in his eyes just before everything goes black.

Bastard better hope he hits hard enough.

-

I once saw a meme of white noise on a TV being compared to the tingly feeling when your arm or leg falls sleep. Try having that all over, everything painfully tingly that your muscles tighten up. Walking it off never helps, seriously, I hate people that try to help that way, it doesn't fucking work. For some reason I get up anyway and the feeling stays… _behind._ I know it's there and if I think about it too hard it comes right back, so I stop.

I'm standing in a room, that doesn't look like the same room they leave us in at night. The door is shut. I feel like I'm walking through mud as I reach for it. The metal is cool in my hand and the door opens the moment I touch it.

So, I get the feeling I'm dreaming.

I mean, I've had… what do you call it, waking dreams? The sheep talisman from _Jackie Chan Adventures_? I forget. Anyway, the dreams where you're still kind of awake and you do whatever you like? I've gotten those before. They… helped. Sometimes.

Anyway, I know I'm dreaming and I figure why not have a look around?

I walk out into the hallways and wonder about a bit they sort of look like the same ones from this morning, sort of look like the ones from back at the Haven and sort of look like nothing at all. It's like, I'm reminded of something, and the walls take those shapes, or I can't remember where I've seen it before and they can't make up their mind. I still feel like I'm walking way too slow, like I shouldn't be doing this. I guess it's because I haven't done this in a really long time, it's harder. Maybe.

I can hear voices. Someone must be talking in the room I'm asleep in, or else, I couldn’t hear it right? Or maybe it's just part of the dream. Most of the doors are shut and something keeps me from going to them. Instead I find one that’s open and I walk out on to a balcony. The railing is painted red and it's hard and cold like stone.

"Why don't you jump?" It's not my voice that asks, but I know without looking that there isn't anyone there.

Okay so here's a scary thought. Everyone's got a blind spot, right? How about a monster that knows exactly where that spot is at all times, and follows you around standing in that spot? Fuck you very much for that tumblr. So now I can't _not_ think of that voice as a monster, but it's my dream so decide I'm not scared.

"I can't always fly when I dream," I say to it, even as I climb up onto the railing. I was basically talking to myself, I guess, even if it wasn't me or my voice who spoke. "sometimes, but not always."

It's one of those things where if I think too hard, it doesn't work. If I think I can fly, I can't. If I just do it, it works. See, I was thinking too hard on it, and I fall straight down. It doesn't hurt though, I'm still dreaming after all, and dreams can't hurt you.

There's a castle in the distance. High up on some floating rocks and so far away it looks like its black.

"You should go there," The voice tells me. What did I call it before?

"Okay," I shrug, but it's so far away, across a street, no across town, the distance between one mountaintop and another, "how?"

The wind blows. It picks me up and for a moment I think I'll just fly there, but I'm going the wrong way. I'm going back the way I came. Up the balcony and back down the halls.

Weird dream.

-

I'm thrown back awake. I hate those dreams only for that reason; I always fall back or get shoved in somehow. Like a punch in the gut without a punch and I never feel like I was asleep. Hell, I could be lying on my back staring up at the sky still, except I'm not lying in the dirt. So I must have been asleep at some point. I remember Punkass beating the shit out of me, but don't feel all that horrible for it. My back hurts a whole lot less too, priorities.

I can feel someone standing over me, like that itch you get when someone's staring at you. I get it a lot. Mostly because people like to stare and not noticing is usually bad for my health.

Okay, okay, it was the glowing green light that gave it away.

I sat up, kicking. The guy jumped back too with a shout because I nearly kicked him in the chest. I missed, damn it. His hands sparkled with green light and I back pedaled- "The fuck!? Are you radio-" -Right off the fucking bed.

Active, by the way. Radioactive. Not that he'd know what that was, but what else glows neon green? I can't understand the bastard, he's speaking Antivan, I guess, shouting at me and raging about.

Oh, shit. Something _rips_.

I'm floored, or I would be if I wasn't already mostly there. Guess I wasn't as healed as I thought, stupid ass me, yep. Glowy-Green Hands has a rag to my side and it comes away with blood. He's still talking, but I don't hear a thing. I've got a fucking open wound going through my side. I wonder why it doesn't hurt as much as it looks like it should.

"I can't understand you," I say, a whole lot more calm then I was ten seconds ago. I realize it's because the radioactive glow was gone and I only realize it's gone because it comes back. I might have freaked out again. Shut up.

"Not. Apostate," The guy says, choppy like he couldn't understand the words himself. He's trying to hold me still, I won't let him, " _desde El Cerchio_. Circle. Mah-gay."

I'm lost, mostly because I'm staring at the hole in my side. I go to pick at it, and Glowy-green Hands smacks my hand away. Looks like someone tried to stake me. I wonder what stopped Punkass from finishing me off for good. I don't go for it again and watch as Glowy runs his radioactive hands over the wound. The bleeding stops, hell I can partially watch as my skin comes back together.

_Son of a bitch_ , it's _magic_.

I mean come on, fantasy games are great. Final Fantasy; I prefer Seven, Diablo; you can fucking bet I wasn't allowed to play that anymore, dumb ass bible thumpers. Hell, I'd even play a D&D game if someone could tolerate me long enough to explain how the fucking character sheet worked. Point is I know a Cure2 spell when I see it. I mentioned I prefer Seven.

Okay, so fucking serious here; hell doesn't have magic. Hell wouldn't have healing spells and I bet this guy could throw a fireball or two if I asked him, in Antivan, if I knew how.

So, am I dead or not?

Unless someone doped me up against my will, this isn't a bad trip. I won't even consider this being one fucked up dream. Dream-ception my ass. Seriously, magic in hell? I just can't buy it. I was so happy thinking I was in eternal punishment, now I don't know what to think.

Alright, so I was suspicious before this, it's easier just to pretend, but fucking magic is just too much to take.

Get a fucking clue Ravan. Vasco. Whatever. Know what? I don't even care. I'm here, it's not hell, and that means I don't have to take shit as long as I can back up my mouth with my fists. Anything else is just fucking _details_.

Glowy's been talking to me this whole time, but it's all in Antivan and I can't understand shit. I probably look like I'm scared shitless. I kind of am. The wound in my side is gone, a pinkish line on my skin. I guess they don't have to worry about infection when it comes to magical healing, else, he wouldn’t have sealed it up like that, right?

He's all done and points at the bed before walking out of the room. I know, I know. Doctor's orders, but fucking shit I just don't want to lie down now that I'm awake. I'm blaming the magic. I don't know how long I sit there, staring at the dust drifting in the light though the planks of wood.

Not dead. Not a dream. Suck it up and move on, you're not going to get an explanation not now, when you’re a whole fucking seven years old, -fuck seven, I hate being seven- and maybe not ever.

It's a little easier said than done.

So, not sure how long I sat there, staring at the dust, trying not to check myself into the loony bin. Not all surprising when I look up and Zevran is standing in the door way.

"Hey," I say, "Long time no see."

He frowns at me. " _Claro que_ , you've been a sleep for two days."

"Shit," I grumble, "if it helps any, I don't feel like I slept two days."

"A bit, but not by much," I'm a dumbass. I'm a fucking dumbass. It took me forever to notice Zev's bandaged up fingers. First three on his left hand, shit, what the fuck did they do to him when I was out? "The hell happened?"

"Void," He corrects and shuffles a bit, a kid thing to do. He pulls at the bandage. "They… caught me."

"Caught you?"

Zevran sighs and tugs at it again. I want to slap his hand away and got some déjà vu for that, can't imagine why. "Pickpocketing. They caught me."

God I feel like shit. Do I really want to know? My mouth opens before my brain decides, story of my life. "What did they do?"

"Thumbscrews. It'll heal." By the look of his hands, I really don't need to ask what a thumbscrew is. I wanna say, hey at least it's your left hand, but hell maybe he's unlucky enough to be one of those one in a hundred people who're left handed.

"All elves are left handed," He says with a shrug. Shit I said that out loud? I'm just going to shut my damn mouth now, okay? Good idea, "by the way, Taliesin was punished for attacking you."

I roll my eyes; I think he just guessed at what I was thinking about. "Ali who?"

Did I say something about shutting up? Nope.

"Taliesin, you've met personally." Ah, him.

"So, uh, why? From what I can tell the bastards like a good scuffle."

"Yes, mostly, but you see, he made mistakes." I wait for him to tell me. "Well, he didn't kill you for one and he broke your nose."

So, yeah like a monkey I touch my face. Zevran laughs, I'm tempted to kick him in the shin. "All fixed my friend, Crows don't like ugly faces, luck for you."

"Yeah, lucky fucking me," I think I feel a bump there, but let it go. Too bad for Punkass I won't be making the same mistake. It's got me wondering, I know they encourage fighting, I mean, come on day one, but I guess even they've got rules. Probably one like 'if you start something, end it,' but Punkass was really wailing on my ass. Something had to have stopped him, or someone.

Did you really get caught pickpocketing, Zevran?

I don't ask, he doesn’t tell.

"Hey, Zevran," I'm suddenly tired of sitting on the ground. "Can we take a walk?"

"Ra- mm," He flinches a bit, and I know that look. I've seen it on my own face too many times not to recognize it. It wasn't just the pickpocketing, if that shit was even true. Scarface got to him. Guess no one's aloud to call me by my real name. Damn, now I have a score to settle with Punkass and Scarface. "Vasco, you-"

"Yeah, yeah," I grumble wishing I had some pockets to shove my hands into. At least someone left me a new shirt; I don't remember the last one being so damn itchy though. The thought of that reminded me of my back. I'm almost afraid to pull the thing over my head, on the off chance my back is still a fucking bloody mess still and I'm high on something. It would explain Glowy and his mumbo-jumbo. Reaching back hurts, itches like it's not used to being pulled on. I expect to find scabs, but it feels more like skin. Scars, sure, but no scabs. I wonder if Scarface knows Glowy patched me up all the way, probably not. "But I can't stand sitting around and I wanna see this city when I'm not half dead or running for my life. It's fine if you don't want to come. I'm sure they'll come drag my ass back later if I get lost."

I don't give a shit what the doctor says. I'm not sticking around, not with the bad mood I'm in. Someone's liable to get hurt and personally I like to pretend I can learn from my mistakes. Zevran finally makes up his mind and comes with me. Lucky me, because I'd probably wander around forever just trying to find the stairs.

"Only so you don't end up whipped again for running away or whatever excuse they'll come up with this time," He says.

Thanks Zevran.

I never noticed before how fucking empty this place is. The room I found myself in was on the top floor, probably belonged to somebody or just used when one of the kids needed to be treated alone, but it wasn’t normal. Everything else was just empty no beds, no blankets, hell nothing to even cover the windows, if there's even windows to cover.

Even the kitchen area is bare bones, there's no place to sit and the only table is the one the cook uses to put the pot and bowls for her stew. I'm willing to bet if I go through every room, I won't find much of anything either. None of us have anything but the cloths on our backs.

Hell, even the play yard is shit empty, nothing but dirt and dust and kids entertaining themselves with sticks and a few rocks. It's damn depressing.

No one looks twice as we leave the Crow building, they don't seem to care. I bet they still have people tracking us though. I didn't realize it the first day, what with running for my life and shit, but walking around with no shoes on hurts damn it. Stupid fucking rocks.  

"You may be new to the city, but I've lived here all my life," Zevran says as we walk and knows just about everything about anything. I bet no one ever found his skinny little ass, not like me lumbering around like an idiot. I finally found out that there's levels to the city, the closer to the docks and shores the more compacted everything is. Explains what I saw the other day. It really reminds me of those pictures I've seen of like, Greece and Rome and Spain and shit places like that that I could never tell the difference, but then, lame ass American schooling.

Anyway, it looks like those paintings that could be photos, but might still be paintings. Makes me wish I'd seen some other countries for myself. All I've ever seen is the shit side of LA and when I say shit side, I really mean shit. It was nice being able to take in the sights without having to look over my shoulder. I'm paranoid, yes, but I'm also not fucking dead so I’m cool with it.

We can't go see the fancy buildings on the top of the hill, though, Zev says we’ll get beaten for sure and I've used up all my stupid lately. We can see the royal palace though; it's technically part of the Merchant District, or whatever he called it in Antivan, some long winded thing that was like six words too long. Apparently, no one gives two shits about the royal family and everything's run by these corporate big wigs that call themselves Princes. Oh, and the Crows. I'm almost impressed.

I'd be more impressed if they didn't beat the shit out of kids, but hey.

So, because I'm observant like, ten percent of the time, I can't help but notice that most of the money-grubbing stale owners watch Zevran a bit more closely than they do me as we walk the city. Now, I'm a bit genre savvy now that I've got my head beaten in, so it gets me thinking. They don't see me of as much a threat as they do Zevran. I guess because he's an elf? Dumbasses.

That being said, I wonder if I could actually pull off some real sticky fingers.

Food would be easy, all we gotta do is get the guy behind the counter to focus on someone else and sneak in when his back is turned. My stomach growls at the thought. That's three days without eating. Seriously, this is fucking shit.

"Let's get something to eat," I say and Zevran gives me a funny look and smiles.

"Try not to break another stall," He says and rolls his eyes. Apparently I'm infamous. I slap his arm. "I assume I'll be the distraction? Of course."

He walks off and I try to keep him in sight while staying hidden in a group of people, far enough away from the other stalls so that some other Merchant person doesn't blow the whistle on us. I wait till I hear someone getting angry before seeking in from behind; grabbing two apples, yes, they're apples; everything else was too weird, and ducking down a side alley. There's a split second where I catch Zevran's eye and then he's gone too. I don't have to wait too long before he comes around a corner and I toss him his half of the spoils.

"Come with me," He says and I follow him half way across the city, we're almost in the fancy part of the city when he climbs up onto an old building. It looks abandoned and it's got a view of the whole bay. We sit watching the sunset over the water.

"So, what'd you do?" It's safe here, I realize, no one's going to come bug us.

"Told him I had coin and pretended to look for it," He shrugs. An apple isn't much, but it's better than nothing. I wonder how stupid it would be to try and steal some money, buy something a little more filling. It quiet for a bit, peaceful even.

" _Mela_ ," He says suddenly, and only holds up the apple when I look at him like he's grown a third head. " _Mela_."

"Apple?" I ask, and he nods. Cool, I knew a new word. He thinks for a bit and then points up.

" _Cielo_ ," he says.

"...Sky?" I hope he's keeping things simple, he nods.

"Humm. _Mare_ ," he points down just a bit.

"Uh, ocean?" Zevran tsks, shoot I got it wrong.

"Well, sea, but yes." He shrugs and is suddenly quiet again, finishing off the fruit and chucking the core into the bushes. "Let's try for some bread next time."

I laugh, "Alright but you gotta pay me back when your hands are better."

-

We did try for some bread after that. And after a while we got good at it too. They always watched Zevran; I don't know why, more. So, I'd seek behind when they're too busy watching the elf. Course it wasn't always easy, some merchants were wiser than others. We both got our share of ass kicking for stealing, but they never killed anyone for it, no matter how many times they got caught. We got good enough that we didn't really have to worry much about not having something to eat. They want us to get good at that shit, pains a great motivator.

"What is a quarter?" Zevran asks as I drop the bronze I'm trying to twirl over my knuckles. That sleight of hand crap is harder than it looks. My Antivan is getting better, I only half realize he said _que es un quarter_.

"Nothing," I mumble out of habit. I hate it when I slip up. It makes it too easy for people to look at me funny when I say things that don't exist yet. I like Zevran. I don't need to give him a reason to bale on me. Not with the other hundred or so reasons.

"You _never_ talk," he grumbles throwing another coin into the pile, one of the ones I'd mistaken for a quarter. Eventually we did try stealing some real money. Coin, it's called coin here. They're all about the same size, which sucks; you don't know what you grab until you see it and they have like, ten different names each. Mostly our little pile of coins made up the bronze coins and a few Antivan-only coins called Andris. I think they're kinda like pesos, basically worthless, but they look like dirty quarters to me and that’s how Zevran got the name.

"Hundred coppers make a silver right?" We don't have a hundred coins so scribble the numbers into the dirt as I explain. "If you break up one hundred into four equal parts," I scratch 25 four times. "You get a quarter."

"Wait, wait. How do you know how to do that?" He asks, leaning over my shoulder to watch. I show it to him again, starting with half and breaking it down again. He's amazed I can do this backwards so easily, and for a moment I wonder what they teach kids here, but then, medieval crosses my mind and I'm done. I give him some kindergarten grade work, finding a sharp stick to pencil it in the ground. He has to work harder to scratch the numbers into the ground and at one point he stops.

" _Que es ceis_?" He asks and holds up seven fingers.

"Seven?"

" _Si_ , what does it look like." I didn't stop to think that they might use a different system of characters as numbers until then. Hell, for all I know I could be setting this kid up for disaster. Still I take the stick and draw him a seven, and then add all the numbers up to nine just in case, and let him have at it.

Soon enough he wants harder problems, so I make them bigger and check them as he finishes. I had to show him how to carry a number, but the kid's smart, way smart. I could probably explain multiplication and he'd get it in a heartbeat.

"How do you know this?" He asks again and I shrug.

Zevran rolls his eyes. "You talk in your sleep."

"Liar," I say, he laughs.

"You would not know you are sleeping!"

I grab the stick and scratch his name into the ground. "Z-E-V-R-A-N. Zevran."

"You can write?"

I don't answer him, and add my name into it. "R-A-V-A-N. Ravan."

He stares at the letters for a long time then points to the last couple of letters. "Why does your name not sound the same as mine, these are the same."

I shrug, "Is jus' the way it's pronounced, -Vaughn, not -van."

"Alright then, how do you spell..?" I have a hard time spelling Arainai, and I'm really not sure if I did it right. He stares at it for a long time; I know he's thinking about his mom, so I don't say anything until he asks me to write something else. The Antiva words are just as annoying as his name; I only know a few anyway so we mostly stick to trade. Just like with the numbers I write out a few words and let Zev copy it in to the dirt a few times.

"I have an idea!" He says and jumps to his feet. The coins are scooped up and thrown in to a small bag. We can't take them with us to the Crow house, they always find them and we get beaten worse than when we get caught stealing _and_ hung up for the night. Bastards take the coin too. I've never wanted hot bread so much in my life, mostly because Zev can't stop dreaming about it. It didn't seem like such a hard thing to have when he first mentioned it. Zev and I usually hide the bag somewhere in the city, but once and a while it gets found anyway. We'll have enough, eventually.

There's something going on in the city, way more people out than normal, more traders too. It's how we got so much money today, people paying less attention from all the excitement. Even a couple of street rats like us go unnoticed. I follow Zev through the crowd, losing the little shit more the once until we're smack dab in the middle of town. And a circus.

" _Sanno la Broma Brothers_ ," he laughs, pointing to the stage show, "Have you not heard of them?"

"Have now," I say. Honestly aside from the lack of cotton candy and stale popcorn, it might as well be a real carnival- I mean, like the ones I'm used to.

"They are not using real magic," Zevran says as we watch the show. I guessed it wasn't really magic, too much colored smoke and explosions, "The Templars would take them away if it was, but people like to believe."

"Sounds about right," It's still pretty cool to watch though. There was even an animal show, something about a real live phoenix. I wanted to see, Zevran told me there where dragons here, real fucking dragons, so a phoenix might be real too, but it cost two silvers for the both of us to get in. I think the tent master just didn't want some grubby kids poking his fake bird.

"Rip off," I grumble kicking dirt on his stupid-white pants. Bad idea really, he gets pissed and tries to cane me with the stick in his hand. Zev and I run to the other side of the fair, stopping only because we can't run and laugh at the same time.

"So what's with all this shit anyway?" I ask trying to catch my breath at the same time.

"You do not know?" He has to stop for air too. "It is Wintersend!"

"All ready?" Can you not taste the sarcasm? It's laid on pretty thick there. Zevran hits me in the arm, bad habit Zev, trust me. The sign on the tent behind him looks like a crystal ball with hands around it. I can read the words on the sign, but its Antivan, and I'm not sure what it means, "Add... advee... ad-divin-no?"

"Adivino? Your accent is atrocious." He smirks, turning around. Again with my fucking accent. "A fortune teller. What do you say Ravan, wish to get your fortune told?"

"Yeah sure, why not?" I shrug, "can they actually tell fortunes or is it like the show? All smoke and mirrors?"

"Smoke and mirrors? I have not heard this before, what do you mean."

"Fake."

"Ah, sometimes, yes. Other times... no."

The tent stinks of incense, there's a huge pile of the stuff being burned in a wooden dish, candles too. The air is hazy with smoke and the woman is sitting on the floor, pillows and sheets scattered around her. It was all bright colors, purples and reds and gold. Her hands jingle as she flips cards in front of her over, more gold jewelry wrapped around her arms, covered her chest, pretending to be a bra and failing. There was so much of it; it made her look trashy, but it glitters nice in the light from the candles so there's that. She looks us of over. We're probably pretty grubby looking, covered in dirt and grime, no shoes on our feet. Zev's hair looks tangled; he needs a haircut as much as I do. She sighs, sliding the cards away.

"Hello, little boys." Thank god she speaks Trade. English. Trade. "Would you like your fortune told?"

"We don't have much coin," Zevran tells her, showing her the depressing little bag of coins.

She shrugs, "a few Andris will do between the two of you."

Zevran fishes out some of the little pieces that look like old quarters and hands them to her. She flips him over her knuckle, the way I was trying to do earlier, damn it, how did she make it look so easy. She flips her palm over and the coins vanish one at a time. I didn't see where they went either. Before Zevran can take his hand away she grabs it, flattening out his palm. She runs her fingers over the lines on his hand and hums. "What's your name?"

"Zevran Arainai," Zev likes his name, I think.

"You must be a crow recruit," She says eyeing us.

Zevran swallows. "How can you tell?"

"I've seen love lines like this before, they're always Crows. Yours is a bit different. You might get lucky." She flexes his palm with her thumbs, straightening out his fingers. "You've got skill, boy. Creative when you need to be, clear in your thoughts. There's a few… bumps in your road. I think you can handle them though. Ah, should have known."

"What?" Zevran gasps, totally buying into her game. She shakes her head.

"Well, you won't die young, but you _are_ a Crow. A good one I'd say or at least a lucky one." She squints a little. "You don't have a fate line to speak of. Good for you, your life is your own."

Zevran smiles, happy with his fortune. She turns to me and motions me closer. "You have a look like you don't trust anyone over ten, boy, what's your name?"

"Ra-" Zevran elbows me in the side. "Vasco."

The fortune teller laughs, " _Crow_ , creative. Now what did they call you on your name-day?"

Name-day? Why is it so hard to just call it birthday? I shrug and tell her, "Ravan."

She takes my hand this time running her hands over the lines on my palm and frowns.

"This… is strange; the lines are there, but…. They don't make sense," she mumbles running her hands over the lines on my hand. She glanced down at the cards by her knee, and then slid a pillow over them. I get a glimpse of one of the cards. I think it's a castle, or a tower, but I don't know what the hell that might mean. "I've never seen…"

She drops my hand and reaches behind a pile of pillows. Zevran and I watch as she puts a clear glass ball on a metal stand in front of us. Zevran scoots back. " _E 'magica vera._ "

"I won't tell the Templars if you won't," She says with a wink her hands on the glass ball and hums to herself. The ball goes dark. Not swirly smoke or anything, it just fades to black. I'm waiting for something to happen when I realize that the fortune teller looks scared. It was about that moment that the ball turns green. "No-" She gasps, she's trying to pull away but it's like her hands are glued in place.

The ball cracks.

She screams.

The dark color turns to smoke as me and Zevran jump backwards. It rolls up her skin, crackling green lighting across her jewelry. Her hands bubble like there's… _things_ crawling under her skin, like a bad effect in an even worse movie. The woman is twitching, twisting. Her eyes are blue, or they were until one turns red. Her hair is blonde -I don't know why I didn't notice before, too busy staring at her chest like an ass- really light, platinum. I notice it now because a moment later it's gone. Thick horns rip from her head, twisted but long. Her face bubbles up, out boils the way a lava flow bubbles, hot angry red and another face burst out. The fortune teller is suddenly much taller; massive goat hooves smack the ground. Her hands are clawed, scaly red like her face.

" _Diablo_!" Zev shouts, grabbing my arm and pulling me back. "Run, Ravan! Run!"

The flap of the tent gets caught on my arm and I hit the ground on my back just in time to see the devil -demon- what does that word actually mean- tare the tent to scraps, getting it caught on curling tail, like a scorpion. The part of its face that was the fortune teller is still screaming, but the other half sneers and locks eyes with me. " **Wanna see what your future looks like fuck boy?!** "

I'm on my feet and running a second before claws dug into the dirt where I was. The crowd screams, it took them that long to realize it wasn't an act, or for someone to just realize there was a reason to panic. " **Get over here you fucking bastard child!** "

I can see Zev just in front of me, and glance back just a second to see the demon swat through the crowd of people. Now everyone is running, someone crashes into me, I hit the ground again, but I get up so fast I'm not even sure I did fall. " **I know what you are! Run as fast as you can you fucking street rat! Run!** "

I hear the demon roar in pain and look back in time to get sunlight in my face. They looked like knights, they must be. Their armor had a mark of an upside down sword and that was the best look I could get as they charged the demon. I didn't look back until the crowd of scared people thinned out and I caught up to Zevran gasping for air in a small alleyway.

We can still hear the sounds of the demon roaring, so we clamber up onto a rooftop. We're far enough away to see… I guess those would be Templars, fighting. The demon stands at least two people tall, and grabs a Templar. Its jaw splits open and it crunches the knight with a twist of metal that we can hear even from here. We watch as a Templar leaps up and slams a sword in the demon's chest.

It goes down with a roar.

We wait for a long time, but it doesn't get up again. It looks like the Templars are just trying to figure out how to move the thing out of the city. Zevran's looking my way. "Why did it say that to you?"

I shake my head, "I have no idea Zev, really."

"I do not think you should get your fortune told again," He says.

"You _think?_ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, in modo que il cestino finalmente trascinato a cabo. Urlare como una ragazza, sabías? Tuptti oírle piangere. - Oh, so the trash has finally been dragged out. You scream like a girl, did you know? We could all hear you crying.  
> Il non è difficile ora. Non siquiera dell'aiuto de Salvail per esto. - You're not so tough now. I don't even need Salvail's help for this.  
> Claro que – Clearly that  
> Mela – Apple  
> Cielo – Sky  
> Mare – Sea  
> 


	4. Make me Bad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, it's been forever. I'm telling you, honest this has never been far from my mind, but there where -obstacles- and I am a weak, weak soul that is so easily demotivated. I'm trying honest.
> 
> From this point on everything that is Antivan is pretty much translated in text, so you don't have to keep scrolling to figure out what was said anymore
> 
> Have to do some editing. Damn you World of Thedas vol. 2, damn you!
> 
> In case you don't want to back track;  
> Zevran's last name is not from his mother (Vasco writes Antiva in the sand instead)  
> Zevran did not know his way around Antiva City, he pretended to and got them both basically lost, they find their way back eventually
> 
> \--

I learn a lot in that year, mostly how to talk and some of how things worked. What I thought was a yearly thing wasn't; the buying of children and sending them out to get pummeled by more experienced kids. It happens often enough that people did know about it and kept out of Crow business. The houses were run by the high ups in the crow guild, and when they come into money they buy up little boys and girls, mostly boys, and bring them to an apartment to be tested. You fail if you die.

Me and Zev so far are the reigning champs for our little group. Thought Punkass was older, but he's not. Just bought a few months' sooner, something about a ship Zevran says, but I can't remember; didn't care enough to listen. Don't like to think about them, the ones that didn't make it. One day a kid just didn't wake up; we didn't know what to do so we just left him there. I think he starved to death, skinny as a twig. Couldn't figure out how to steal. I can't say I remember him on the whipping pole, but I never tried to pay attention. He was gone when we came back that night. Everyone else just… never showed up again. Whether they got killed, or couldn't take a beating, I have no idea. It's easier to just forget about them. No names, no grief. Punkass and his little bitch are a year older, but they'd only been bought a few months earlier, the fuckers. It isn't until a trail of new little mice drifted into the kitchen do I realize just how much time had passed. They look scared, probably how we all looked on that first day. Well, except for me, but that was only because of ignorance. There's no one left in that room, but us. It left a lot of room to spread out, but me and Zev, we don't like being too far from each other, it's just safer that way.

Course, it's hard seeing the little things standing in a circle and looking petrified, I can't stand watching them. It's too damn depressing so I go outside. Its dumb, but even though I know what's coming I take a seat against the wall and wait. It doesn't take long before Scarface herd the Mingherlini, weaklings I think, never did ask about that, into the center of our little courtyard. Zev joins me.

Scarface's speech is the same, except none if it needs to be put into common for my benefit. That sharp whistle hurts like someone slapped a palm over my ear. The mice are sent in a panic, it's easy to see the ones who don't know Antiva City, most of them really, they're the ones who stand there a second too long wondering what's out there and if it's worse then. No one gets ganged up on this time. Though they get chased out into the city by a pack of wolves. Fuckers, all of them.

"God, I hate this asshole." That was in Antivan, I really like knowing when someone else calls me a bastard.

"Maker, Ravan."

"The fuck I care?" That was still in English. Trade. Whatever. I don't like using void, it just doesn't feel right. "The whole thing's twisted."

Zevran doesn't seem to notice and just shrugs. "It's how things are done here."

I've never wanted to punch him in the face so hard.

"What kind of monster are you?" Zev actually looks a bit surprised at what I said. Good, I don't have to kick his scrawny ass now. "You wanna be better than Scarface and any of those bastards? It starts here Zevran; it's not playing their games no matter what they do to you."

He's silent for a bit, but he doesn't get up. "He has a name; you know this?"

"Monsters don't deserve names, Zevran," I growl standing up and walking away. Scarface was glaring at me. Come at me asshole, I'm ready to take someone's eye out and I do don't give a shit if you're a master assassin. "They're not worth it."

The kid bites his lip a little then hangs his head. I shouldn't have snapped at him, but damn that pissed me off. They're straight up turning kids into monsters. You can see it in what's left of the older kids. Only two or three of them now. They're a tight little team, ain't nobody going to fuck with them; they'll gut you soon as look at you. I know the feeling, had it all through high school. It doesn't look good for us either. I'm imagining it on Zevran's pretty-boy face, the anger. He could be better than this, even better than me.

No one died today, Scarface seems disappointed.

The Chantry bells ring on the hour and Scarface is watching the last of us in the youngest group. Punkass is pretending to be tough shit walking around like he owns this place. I don't see his Little Bitch around though, wonder where the shit went.

"Yearlings," It still takes me a second or two longer, but I can understand what he says. Funny how fast you can pick up a language when no one speaks anything else. I take my time getting there. Its pissing off Scarface and I like the foam on his lips and the steam in his ears. Yep, going to be a stick in your crawl for a long time, ass. Going to be the death of you too, just got to figure out how to use a sword.

"This is house Arainai," He spits, literally. It splats on the ground by my foot. Nice aim asshole. Can't remember when I wasn't caked in mud and it feels nasty, it'd be a year's worth if it hadn't rained like a shower during the summer, Zev had fun playing in it. Can understand the lack of shoes, but I just wished they'd give us a change of clothes more often. Never thought I'd say it, but what I wouldn't give for a bath… "You will address your selves as such. Today we will begin your training."

Really, not as ominous as I thought it would be. The three of us shoved back inside, to a little room at the back of the house and made to sit at what kinda looked like picnic tables, short ones. There's a feather in front of us. I saw Harry Potter, I knew a quill and ink-thing when I saw it. There was even a small stack of paper, it was rough feeling, could still see the wood chips in it, it wasn't that I expected to see notebook type paper, I've just never seen homemade paper before. Last was a piece of wood. Its sticky with wax with Letters carved into it, AaBbCc… the numbers where the same as the ones I taught Zev too, I'd forgotten actually about that. Being shocked and relieved in the same instant hurt. Under that was some sounds- syllables, and the last half of the on is a verse. I know religion-text when I see it, and it's already got me grumbling under my breath. If there's one thing I hate, it's organized religion. The Print goes something like-

"Aquí radica l'abisso, el pozo de tutte le anime.  
Partir queste aguas esmeraldas inizia la vida nuevo.  
Venite a mi, bambino, e io abrazarte.  
En mis braccia encuentra l'eternità.  
-Cántico de Andraste 14:11"

Okay, I'll admit it, reading words was ten times harder than actually speaking them. The letters looked the same, except for the drunk looking 'I's and 'a's, but they were part of the alphabet up at the top, so. "Here… resides? ...the abyss."

"Lies, in this context, but yes." I look up to see Crazy Stalker looking down over me. Guess he's a stalker and a teacher too. "Continue."

"fff- the… something of all the something." I have no idea what pozo and anime. Unless, it's anime- as in cartoons.

"Here lies the abyss, the well of all souls?" Zevran says next to me and I frown, I totally did not teach him enough to be able to read in Antivan. Kids smarter than I thought. "It is the Cántico of Andraste."

Zevran you ass, getting my hopes up and making me think I'm a good teacher.

"Yes, Zevran knows this, how do you not Vasco?"

"He dislikes the Chantry, will not go near it if he can help it."

I'm just sit here clicking my jaw. "Vasco can read and talk you know."

"What else does he know?" He says directly to Zevran. Alright, now I know he's fucking with me.

"He taught me mathematics." Punkass snorts, mutters something under his breath. Yeah, I'm smart shit, fuck you, I'm fucking awesome.

"Try not to look so smug Vasco." Eh, fuck you too, that kid has it coming.

"Me?" I say, feeling proud. "Smug?"

"That's enough. Seeing as you've taught Zevran a bit, you'll tutor Taliesin now." Wow, Karma really is a bitch. "Zevran will practice his penmanship. You will show Taliesin the mathematics you know."

"Yeah, okay, but I know a bit." I tell him, he frowns. "Add, subtract, Multiply, divide and… whatever I manage to remember from Algebra."

"What is Algebra?"

I grab a piece of paper and the quill and ink and try not to spill that shit popping the lid off. Quark? The ink spatters a big drop on the paper, fuck, just because I've seen Harry Potter doesn't mean I even know how to hold this thing. Piece of charcoal must be too much to ask for.

"Yes." Fuck, said that out loud.

Granted, it's been over a year since I learned this shit, and it wasn't my favorite. Why the hell do I need to know how to factor and foil and all that crap? It's kind of hard to remember… So, what, 5a -4 and uh... oh! (a + 2) and it equals... 3a. okay. Here's hoping it's got an answer. Parenthesis first, like terms… get rid of that two… -4? I guess.

Oh right, I can check.

-12=-12 Look at that, I haven't forgotten everything.

Part-time Stalker takes the paper and holds it up so I can't see his face. "Teach Taliesin numbers and simple maths, and then work on your penmanship together." Ah, fuck you. Never held a damn quill, you're just lucky I knew they can break if you press too hard. Or explode, maybe both.

"Can you even count?" I ask as Punkass; he gives me a dirty look. Not like I care, I do happen to hate you, remember? I'm not a dick though, not like him. I write out the easy ones, to see if he can and then get him adding and subtracting. He doesn't pick it up as quick as Zevran, keeps staring at one problem. "Use your fingers?" He snorts at me, but I can see him tapping his fingers until he got the problem right.

It was boring. Really, really boring. Stalker in his chair looking half asleep (aren't you supposed to be the fucking teacher here?), Zev beside me coping the verse over and over, Punkass struggling with every other problem. He kind of looks like he bit into a lemon.

"What comes after this one-" He's pointing at the number 10.

"I asked if you could count." He looks about ready to punch me, but I did ask. So, I start writing out the numbers out for him, reading them out-

"Vasco, you're using Trade." Stalker doesn't even look up. "Teach it in Antivan as well."

Yeah, well, you're supposed to be the damn teacher, do your fucking day job, ass. "Don't know it in Antivan."

He finally shifts off his chair. "Bring the ink."

Uno, due, tres, quattri, cinco, sei, siete, otto, nove, dieci. He showed me up to twenty, and from there I guessed pretty easily up to 100, the only annoying part are the teens; they always like to be little rebellious assholes in any language. After he's done, I'm back at the table and teaching numbers to Punkass. It was boring as all hell, mostly because I didn't actually like seeing this kid get it right like I did with Zevran. Not sure how much time goes by, but Stalker finally tells us to stop with the math and work on writing. I almost wrote 'Punkass' for his name, before I remembered that's just my name for him. "Uhh… What was your name again?"

"Taliesin." he grunts. Oh get over yourself, you little shit. I try to spell it out for him, Tal…e? Tale? Tali? sure. Talisen. If it's wrong, I don't give a fuck. After I read it back to him, he copies his name a few times, his mouth slowly moving to the letters as he tries to memorize him. After that, I give him a few different words, easy ones, whatever I can think of first. A for apple, B for bear, C for cat.

"Vasco, Antivan." Oh, right uh… altura (hill), baffi (moustache), calmo which is what punk ass really needs to do; calm the fuck down… Really, I think Stalker is making me use Antivan just because I don't know it very well. Bah, fuck him. Course that means I'm starting to ask myself out loud what word starts with a J and a K and Punkass offers up jabón (soap), but we have a hard time finding a k even with Zevran's help.

"Cuchillo?"

"Naw, that starts with a C." But I write it down for him anyway. One L or two...?

"There is none," Stalker says from behind his book, when he pull that out? "Trade for K, W and Y."

Well okay then. Oh yeah, No Xs, or Zs, in this shit. Isn't any Xylophones or Zebras here, apparently? I use Zev's name though, so I know Z's exist. It made him grin, so that was good. I decide to just use a word with an X in it, because that was just too freaking hard.

News flash, school is fucking boring no matter where you are.

About that time, my stomach reminds me that it's been a really long time since I last ate. It mostly shut up over the year of nearly starving to death every day, but every once and a while I'm reminded oh yeah, try not to die. Stalker puts his book down and sits up. "Leave your papers and cap that ink or it'll dry out before tomorrow."

The three of us jump up like our asses where lit on fire. Fuck yeah! School work is done! About damn time; the room was stuffy and hot, even with the big windows open to let in the light so we could see what we were doing. The breeze smelt like rotting meat, leather Zevran tells me, but damn was it nasty. At first I thought that's all they were going to do to us today but when we walk into the kitchen, angry chef lady is behind her huge pot, and there's bread. Actual, soft bread. She hands the three of us bowls and, I guess without so many kids here, we actually get some good stuff because I'm pretty sure I'm looking at pieces of chicken or something either way, it's better than anything I've had in days.

Zevran is savoring every bite, Taliesin just shoves it into his mouth and swallows. Personally, I think Zev has the right idea. Punkass catches me starting.

"What?"

"Your face."

"And what about my face!?"

"It's disgusting."

Chef Lady throws a spoon at the wall when Punkass stands up yelling. I would have totally won that fight, too.

It ain't long before someone's yelling at us to get off out asses. Lunch break, over.

Outside Stalker walks outside and away from the area where some of the other kids hung around. I wondered if they had their own lessons at different times, or what. Kind of hard to assassinate someone during the day, probably, so maybe they just hung out?

So, I admit that I'm a dumbass that can't pay attention for shit right? There's a fence here, a whole wooden ring, I know it was here day 1, I just didn't notice it then. Reminds me of where you'd keep horses. Or maybe it's just a cheap ass fighting ring. I'm going with the second one, their straw dummies set up. Why do I feel like I've seen this somewhere before?

"Sword lessons." Whip says as if it explains everything. It kind of does, in a Capitan Obvious kind of way. I can finally see a bunch of wooden swords waiting for us in a bucket. They look a little worn. I don't even have a stick in my hand, before Stalker is shouting at us how much we're fucking up.

"Taliesin, do not hold it with two hands."

"Ravan it's a sword, not a hammer!"

"Zevran, you lack balance, feet apart!"

The sun was going down before he let us stop. My arms felt like fucking bricks. Angry Chef Lady Let us have as much water as we could drink. Laying down felt so good. I never complain about the dusty nasty f-

\---

August was funny, mostly because it was here too. Course that also made it about the only month I could remember, everything else had weird names. Dragon-something, winter-goes, ah screw it. My point is time goes by fast. Anyway, I still think August is a little early for Halloween, sorry, All Souls Day, but they're probably not going to listen to me. Not like it's even Halloween anyway. They don't give out candy. Got the costumes bit right though.

"Vas- Ravan?" Damn it, why you gotta wake me up? I grumble and swat at Zevran. I'm not even sure what I said, I was so out of it, but Zevran won't let me go back to sleep, keeps shaking my shoulder. Every day is the same, class in the morning, sword training in the afternoon. We get the evening to ourselves, for the most part. The ache is just something their now, but I still wish I could sleep it off.

"What?" I might have snapped at the guy, but he knows I get pissed when someone wakes me up and he just shrugs it off.

"Come, I have something to show you." Zevran says as I rub my eyes. Well, okay then.

We sneak out easy enough; they don't even care if you don't stay the night. Long as you're in for roll call in the morning, it's basically do as you like. They don't even really watch the place much, just the exits out of towns, and the docks. Zev's taking me up and down side streets; I'm starting to think he's as lost as he was that first day. Though, I'm pretty sure we passed the back door to that one whor- brothel. There's a woman there who will give us food if we've got coin for it. Kind of glad Zev talked me into trying to pickpocket people. It's a little harder now, people are holding a little tighter to their moneybags. Better than going to the chur-chantry. Zev, will, but I've got enough of the sound of people talking out their collective assholes and trying to shove it down your throat to last me a fucking life time. I'm bitter, fuck it.

"Hey, Zev-" He hisses at me to shut up. Well fuck you very much too, Zev. Wish they'd invent pockets already. I miss being able to shove my hands into something. What was so important this kid couldn't tell me out right? Next think I know we're hiking up this hill and there's broken down tower at the top. What was it? A clock tower? Do they even have those here? Doubt it. It looks like it's going to fall apart any second as Zevran climbs up. It doesn't, but that doesn't mean I'm not holding my breath every time the wood creaks. I'm not afraid, shut up.

Zev's digging in a pile of garbage when I finally get there, old rags, hay, maybe something valuable, but I doubt it. It takes him forever but he finally has what he's looking for.

"Gloves?" It sounds stupid, because it does. All that work for a pair of old gloves?

He sighs and plops down on the rickety old wood, my breath hitches, but nothing happens. I'm not afraid, really. "They were my mothers."

Well, fuck me. I don't know what to say so I sit down next to him. He's off in his own world, doesn't even put them on, and just keeps staring at them. "Shit Zev, they won't even let us keep coins at the house, if they find out about this-" damn this kid can give a dirty look. I didn't know he had it in him.

"You do not think I know this?" He snaps and frowns going back to stare at the gloves. I get it, I really do. Zevran can imagine anything he wants about his mother; no one's around to tell him any of it is a lie. Not like me who's only got sour memories of my mom, I can't help but be a little jealous. Even Zevran gets to pretend someone cared about him. Some people aren't so lucky, Zev, but I don't tell him that. "She was Dalish…"

"Dalish?" I have to ask, because no one's ever used that word before. Props for Zev, he never bothers asking why I don't know shit anymore, just goes with it and tells me straight up. I guess he's taken my amnesia excuse to heart, thank God –no wait, Maker right? - for this kid. I'd probably be dead by now just for asking a stupid question.

"Si, they are elves that refuse to live in human cities. They live wild, roaming the land searching for pieces of the history the humans destroyed. Most people think they're bandits and murderers, but…"

I don't know what to say to that, popular opinion really sucks, true or not, and it made me wonder what they thought of Zevran for having a Dalish mother. "So, how did she end up… you know?" In a whorehouse to die giving birth, I try not to say it, but the sour look on his face says that I didn't have to.

"She met a woodcutter in the forest one day, the whores told me when I was younger, fell in love with him and left her clan to be with him. He died, some disease non sanno que," … don't know what- "left her with all his debts, and the only way to pay it off was to sell herself." He spat the last words.

"So… is he..?" I ask, I really doubt he knows, but it's worth asking, or I thought until Zevran gave me he evilest eye I've ever seen from the kid.

"Do not care," He says, I've really never seen Zevran so bitter before. There's not a whole lot to talk about after that. I leave him to the gloves and stare up at the sky. You can't see the sky this good in LA, not anywhere and the two moons (fuck two moons), are just slivers. It's actually really nice and we could sit here all night if he wants, I don't mind really. It's not like its cold out, and it's better than the stagnant leather smell back at the house. I don't realize I fall back asleep until Zevran's shaking me awake and the sky is looking a little too light for comfort. They might not care if we wander about, but we do have to be back before Scarface kicks open our door or there'll be hell to pay.

"So, Zev, why did you…" I don't want to say it out loud. He was so careful about hiding them and I knew if anyone heard…

"I just… I trust you, Ravan. Please don't speak of it to anyone."

"I'm good for secrets," I tell him. Jealous, yes I am, but this kid's stuck by me for months now, and he trusts me with something that better then gold. I don't turn on people; I'm not that kind of person, though I doubt a whole lot of people out there would vogue for me, but I know myself and that's all that matters to me. "But, shit Zev, haven't you ever heard- ugh, how does it go? Two can keep a secret if one of them is dead?"

He looks like he's about ready to kill me, and I don't blame him. Fuck, there I go again, shoving my foot in my mouth. I don't know how to tell him what I'm trying to say and what I did say was totally wrong. "What, are you saying I cannot trust you?"

"No, no, what I mean is- fuck," No really, fuck, what do I say? What do I tell him? "I won't tell anyone, I swear it, just, don't ever bring me along again, okay? If someone gets wise..."

He frowns but nods.

"Not form me Zevran, I swear it."

Honestly, I don't think he believes me.

We get back before anyone cares to notice we've been gone. We don't talk about it again. Ever, and that's fine with me. He trusts me, and I won't let him down, but it's no good if someone overhears. I know he goes off alone some nights. I can't sleep when he's gone. Shit, I worry about the kid, okay? What if someone jumps him and I'm not there to back him up? He's scrawny, I mean, most elves are from what I've seen, hell I'm scrawny as shit, but at least if there's two of us we have a better chance. That was the reason for this whole thing was two was better than one.

\--------

"When is your name-day?"

"Not a clue." I shouldn't complain. Not everything is so different here. There's still twelve months, even if they all have the same amount of days. I'm going to do it anyway because, you know, punk, but I shouldn't. If I tried hard enough I could probably figure it out, if I actually gave a damn about it. Leave it to a seven-year-old to think the most important thing in the world is a birthday. He called it a name-day, but it was the same thing.

"Another one of those things you won't tell me then?" He says as I put an apple in his hand, taking a bite out of my own and hope that will shut him up as we sit by the pier watching the ships. He's probably sick of the things, the apples, not the ships, but they're about the only thing that don't leave you wishing for a glass of water after its gone.

Zevran insisted we couldn't get too close, and after my first trip down to the docks I agree. The sea breeze was nice, I guess, but I still wanted to be closer to the water. Damn, it was hot. I could at least pretend I could go swimming.

"It's not like that Zev." Thing was, birthdays weren't always fun back home. Shit, what am I saying? They were never fun. When I was his age, err, the first time, I was lucky if my old man just forgot the day. If he did remember he'd take the piss out of me with a broom handle. I fucked up his life, he'd say, I was the worst fucking thing that could have happened. I always wondered why he didn't just leave me somewhere. People want babies, not grown kids with issues. Asshole was determined to fuck me up, I guess.

"Oh come on, you must know. Even the whores-"

"God damn it, Zev! Did you forget that I was left out on the street to get trampled or eaten? We didn't celebrate my fucking name-day!" I don't remember standing up, but I'm looking down at him and fuck, I hate the look on his face; like I kicked a puppy. His ears droop and everything. It's his own damn fault, he keeps asking even when he knows he shouldn't. I throw the apple against a wall and it splatters. Felt good, but not good enough. I storm off with Zevran calling my name.

Yeah so, he hit a fucking button.

I don't want to think about it. Even the whores, Zev Says. Don't want to think about. City is busy, feels like is gearing up for something. I'd have to ask Zev what- god damn it.

I don't want to think about the kid! Why is that so damn hard!?

It's hard to find anything to do, and I know I'm going to hate myself later, but I go back to the house. The box of wooden swords is waiting; I pull one out. Feet apart Ravan, one hand only, it is not a club it is a dagger, use it properly!

Stalker's voice in my head is the lesser of a few evils, I guess.

"This is the last place I thought I'd find you."

My head hurts. Probably because I'm dying of thirst, might have hit my head. Not going to admit it. Zev's frowning at me. I stare at the sword on the ground rather than him, when did it get down there?

"Come with me." I don't know why, I follow him. It's a long walk and we don't say anything. I wouldn't know what to say anyway. I don't think he knows where he's going again.

"Sit," he says pointing to the back stoop of some run down house by the docks. He walks around the front and I can hear him knocking on the door. He's talking to the woman, but I can't make out what he's asking for. It wouldn't be the first time we paid a housewife for a couple of glasses of water. Except he only brings one. I'm too thirsty to care, drink it all, and we sit quiet again.

"Look, Zev-"

"No-no, not now. Just wait."

So we wait. Until the lady comes back out with two bowls of-

Fish soup?

"Chowder." Fine, fish chowder. I've had clam chowder, and that wasn't bad. Fish chowder turns out to be not so bad too. Zev seemed to like it a lot. He had this little smile on his face, like it reminded him of something good. I'm better off not asking; it could lead to something else I really don't want to know. It was the best meal we've had in months, and the fishwife who cooked it only gave us a few side looks. Hey, we gave her coin, and we're sitting outside to eat it, what more does she want?

"Firstfall." I say. "The forth, or something."

"Then we just missed it."

"Or we're super early for it."

"I do like that idea better."

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope it wasn't too boring on y'all. I promise there's more. I'll try to make it a little sooner then 6 months though! :P
> 
> I’m brining it up now in case someone notices. Ravan spelt Taliesin’s name wrong. Not on purpose, but because it’s kind of hard to guess how to spell it if you’re only hearing it (especially with an accent). IF; Ravan is thinking or using the name it comes out as Talisen. IF; someone else is using the name it’ll be spelt correctly as Taliesin. I make things hard on myself because why not? XD


	5. Here To Stay

05: Here to Stay

“That wasn’t very pleasant.” I know I’m dreaming, again. The voice behind me- always behind me, is never there unless I’m asleep. It’s gotten to the point that I know these halls, warping and shifting between things I remember, almost as well as I know the halls of House Arainai. It’s not worth trying to find the source of the voice, I’ve tried, and it’s only laughed at me.

“What wasn’t?” I’ve found that I can travel farther in this little dream world, a little bit more every night, Out of the building, out into the city. Sometimes it’s Antiva, sometimes it’s LA sometimes places I can’t name.

“The fortune teller. Poor woman taunted them too much. One mistake is all it takes." I had forgotten about her. Well, not really, it was just harder to recall things here. It also didn’t bother me like it did before. Maybe because this was a dream?

"So, you don't think it was because she tried to tell my fortune?" The halls are long and echo as I walk. They remind me of high school I wonder if I can find my old classrooms.

“Not entirely, no. She was telling fortunes long before you were born, boy." I doubt it. She didn’t look that old. But I guess I look like a kid, even in my dreams.

The classroom looks like the one we study writing in. Figures. "If you say so."

It’s about this time that I always end up waking up, anytime I want to go back the way I came. Maybe it’s because the voice didn’t want me to see him. This time isn’t any different and the next thing I know there’s sun in my face and Zevran yawning next to me.

“Strange dreams?” He frowns after I tell him about it. “Ravan, I would not tell anyone else about this.”

Probably better if I don’t ask why.

\---

The walls shake from the wind. It’s dark outside, but it’s mid-day. Zev says they don’t know what a hurricane is and I can’t say I’ve ever been in one having lived on the opposite side of the country from them, but I’m pretty sure that’s what’s raging outside. Fuck, I’m not scared or anything, but you know. Fuck. If the storm wasn’t bad, then why the fuck is it trying to knock down the walls? Talisen started staying in our room a few months ago, Kid puts me in a bad mood just looking at him and now I gotta see him first thing in the morning, so my whole day is pretty much shot-

-FUCKING-

-THUNDER.

Fuck!

“Tell us a story.”

“Uh, no.”

Zev frowns at me, crossing his arms. “But you like telling stories.”

“Someone keeps interrupting me every time I try.” Not hard to guess who that is. Zevran actually likes my stories, obviously.

“Your stories make no sense.” Talisen says from against the wall, being an ass as usual and trying to prove the storms nothing by leaning against the outside wall. Kind of wish something would happen to him. Kind of. Not really. Yes. Fuck off.

“Well there’s the problem; you don’t have a fucking imagination.”

“I can imagine breaking your nose!”

Zevran stands up between us. This isn’t the first time he’s had to stop us from tearing each other apart. Think he’s getting sick of it, I am too. “Taliesin, stop goading him. There is nothing else to do, let him tell a story.”

“Fine.” Score. “But no good magic.” Ass.

Alright, fine. A story with no good magic. Kind of wish the ceiling would give me an answer. “Okay uh- once, wait-” Shit, how did this one start again? Something about a baby, and a kingdom and- “Okay, okay so there’s a faraway land with two kingdoms that share a border. One is ruled by a human king, and its filled with normal folks like you and me- “Zevran frowns out me, and I shrug, next time I’ll remember to make the king an elf. “-the other is a land of err, strange creatures, like nothing seen anywhere else.”

“What, like the fade?” Talisen scooted closer, but he’s still too far away to kick.

“No, they’re not spirits, they’re flesh and blood. Different blood, but blood, now shut up or I won’t finish.” Talisen makes a face. “They’re called Fae. Sometimes Fairies. Sometimes they’re little things that only live in pure water and have skin that looks like sunlight on ripples. Or, Or, deep dark forest creatures, with the heads of dears, and manes of moss and they stand on two legs and their bodies are made of wood and they’re taller than this building. And sure, some of them are monsters, like really real monsters, but they’re not all bad. Most of them are pretty decent as folks go, but humans have a bad habit of being dicks to things they don’t understand, or just don’t like. The human king has been a bit of an ass to the Fae people, but to be fair, the Queen of the Fae people is a bit of an ass herself, so.”

The building shakes again. Fucking storm.

“N-now, the king and his wife are having a baby. It’s all super special because they don’t have other kids, and now there’s finally an heir for the throne. The kings all excited because he’s thinking that he can bring peace to the two kingdoms with the birth of his child. Why? I donno- probably human ego. But he throws a party and invites everyone, like everyone in two kingdoms, even the Fairies.

“Except he didn’t.

“See, there’s one thing you don’t do, and that’s invite one Fae and not another. That’s like if I had a cake and offered it to Zev while you were sitting right there.”

“That sounds like something you would do.” Talisen mutters.

“Yeah, and it would piss you off, and I’d get a kick out of it. And that’s exactly what the king decided to do. But with less cake. He didn’t invite the biggest baddest fairy of them all, the Queen. Because he’s an ass, and an idiot, apparently. So, everyone’s having a good time celebrating the birth of a princess. Everyone gets the chance to walk up to the cradle and see her. There’s even three fairies that come to give the princess gifts- err. Wait, no good magic… umm...”

“No, no, go on.” Zev says shaking my leg and glaring at Talisen.

“Err, fine. So, three fairies, little ones like -this big- they wear flower petals instead of cloths, each a different color, blue yellow and red, and have tiny little wings that look like, like- umm,” I don’t know what they call the bugs in Antivan, or if they even exist… “Zev, _Dragonfly_?”

“ _libellula_.” Apparently, they did.

“-dragonfly wings. So, the three little fairies, trying to be good little fairies and make friends with the humans, because _someone_ has to step up, give the baby gifts. The first Fairy, Rose, leans over the baby in the cradle and says, ‘For you princess, I give you the gift of beauty.’ Which is basically all you need in the world, so it’s probably the best gift.”

I can’t tell if they’re laughing at my joke or my girl voice. I pretend it’s the joke.

“Bl-um let’s call her Lilac, who doesn’t really like Rose, tries to outdo her, ‘Baby,’ she says, ‘I shall give you the gift of love, so that everyone who sees you will adore you, always.’ Which is redundant because if your beautiful everyone’s going to love you anyway. And Last Ye... um, Cotton? Cotton leans over to give the baby her last gift when -BOOM- the doors are thrown!”

The thunder makes all three of us jump. Okay, I’ll admit, nice timing.

“She has horns like a dragon, huge twisting things on her head. A cape made of feathers sweeps the floor behind her. She’s beautiful...” Honestly I don’t really remember what she looked like from the cartoon. And also, it was a cartoon. “But she’s also scary as all hell. She’ll kick your ass and you’ll like it.

“Everyone just knows that the king fucked up, even if they don’t know how. They clear the way as the Fae Queen strolls up to the King and Queen and says, ‘Forgive my late arrival, I seem to have misplaced my invitation.’

“And like a dumbass, the king stands up and growls, ‘you were not invited!’

“‘Oh,’ says the Fairy Queen in fake shock, a shit eating grin on her face, ‘Then this is... awkward. But I cannot leave without bestowing a gift on the princess.’

“The king takes a step forward, ‘we do not want your gifts, leave us be! Guards!’ Except, no one’s dumb enough to stop the Queen. Like I said, she’s scary shit. She walks up to the cradle leans over it and... sneers. ‘You will indeed be beautiful and loved by all...’ The queen raises her arms over her head, green smoke bellowing from her robes like fog. Her voice booms in the hall like thunder, ‘But, on the eve of her sixteenth birthday she will prick her finger on a spinning wheel and fall into a deep sleep never to awaken!’

Even Talisen has this wide-eyed look, maybe I should consider a job in the arts.

See, that was a joke, cuz I don’t have a fucking choice?

“Her laughter fills the hall, crackling like thunder, her body turns to smoke with a rush of wind The Queen is gone; her evil never to be undone. The king and queen panic, what are they going to do? Their precious innocent daughter is going to be killed by the Fairy Queen’s evil magic! Desperate, the king orders every spinning wheel in the kingdom to be burned- You know, I never thought about that, how the hell did they make clothes if they couldn’t spin yarn?”

“Ravan!”

“Right, shit, right, sorry. So, the spinning wheels burn, a bon fire lasting days. But, they still don’t feel safe- this is their daughter after all. They turn to the three little fairies that had answered their invitation. ‘Take her into the forest, raise her, keep her safe until the day after her sixteenth birthday.’

“Now, these little fairies, they have good hearts and all, but they’re not the brightest. Mostly because they accept the task of raising a human child. Still, they do their best. They take her into the forest where there’s a convenient little cottage away from everyone else. Now, it’s a miracle the child survives, honestly, because these fairies are a bunch of fuck ups like... there’s that one time they left the baby outside, and thought calling for her like a dog would help them find her. And the other time they couldn’t figure out what to feed a baby, or a diaper change.” (“Diaper?” Talisen to Zev. “Nappy.” Zev to Talisen. Fuck.) “And that was just the first week. Imagine when she started losing her baby teeth. That really freaked the fairies out. And god help them when Aurora, oh, did I forget to mention that? Yeah, the baby’s name is Aurora. Anyway Aurora, Cotton’s gift must have been patience because damn did that girl put up with a lot of weird shit and just let it roll off her back.”

“Still, she manages to survive almost 16 years…”

Zev and Punkass lean in real close when I tell them about the magical spell that compels Aroura to find the room with burned spinning wheels and they’re all wide eyed when the Fairy Queen turns into a dragon, almost shaking. I always thought that was the best part. And of course, the girl gets the prince in the end. The storm calmed down outside, and everything is dark. They don’t give us candles or nothing, like we all have crazy elf night vision.

There’s nothing to do now, but we’ve been stuck inside all day. I’m not tired, just bored, but it’s about all that’s left to do.

 “He tells good stories, does he not?” Zevran whispers quietly in the dark.

“Eh, I guess.” It’s a compliment if I’ve ever heard one from him.

\--

 “Strik- stry-ch-nos nux… vom… ici- ica-“

“Try it again Zevran.”

“Strychnos. Nux-vomcia. A medium size tree, the wood is dense hard white-” I’m already bored. Mostly because Stalker never lets me read, nope. Just because I seem to be so damn good at it already. He had yanked the book out of my hand first day of plant lessons- because that’s what we’re reading about here- some kind of plant- and told me to sit the fuck down. Pretty sure he double checked to make sure I wasn’t making shit up. Course I wasn’t. Mr. Star student over here has to sit here and listen and -gasp- take _notes._ I can’t stay focused, already got yelled at for doodling. This is torture. I’m dying. “-Half palm wide. The flowers are small and pale green-” _Ricinus communis_ , that was the first one, some flowering plant. Comes in reds and browns as it ages. Seeds are incased in green pods resembling a tick or something, the seeds can be ground up and- “when inhaled can cause conv-convulsions and ass-ass-fix-ia?”

Poisons. Every one of the of these plants are poisonous in some way. I mean, I should have guessed that sooner, I guess. Assassins, right? They just don’t go all stabby-stabby.  Zevran sits down, and the book is placed in front of us. At least this part is fun. We have to draw the plant now. Just the way its drawn in the book. They even gave us charcoal for it, which is a lot messier then I remember. Might not be able to hold a quill, but charcoal I got.

Pretty sure Stalker hated me for that too.

“Vasco,” You know, I still hate that name. “The name and appearance of the plant Zevran just read.”

His hand is over the picture in the book, of course. Can see some of it, but not the important bits. Not that I can look, he’ll smack me if I look down. Fuck you too. Alright, okay. Name, name sounded like- like not vomit. “na- um… Nox-Vomika.”

“You still speak like a Ferelden, Vasco. One more time. The full name.”

“Vomi _cia,_ then. Stry-chro- … Stry-chin-os?”

“Close enough. Appearance.”

“It’s white. The wood is or the branches are anyway.” _Details, Ravan, Details._ I can hear him saying already. Okay, okay. First is proper identification, don’t really gotta know the name, just what it looks like and what it does. “Tree. Smallish with a thick trunk. Wood is supposed to be hard, leaves are oval shaped and are smooth and shiny on both sides and are about palm sized. Flowers are- are light green. _Tube_ \- er, funnel shaped. Small yellow seeds. Smells bad...”

“The name of the poison, preferred delivery method and its effect.” Stalker sounds bored. I’m bored too.

“ _Estricnina_.” For some reason the name sounded familiar, but for the life of me I couldn’t put my finger on it. “It’s best to breath it in or drink it I guess. Could probably blow it in their face but then you might get poisoned too...”

“Vasco.”

Yeah, yeah, fine, whatever.  “Um… effect; Muscles contractions... convulsions, hallucinations and then they can’t breathe, so, yeah.”

“The time it takes for exposure to present and death.”

“Less than half an hour.” Because clocks aren’t a thing, or at least Zev’s never seen one, but they still use their fingers to measure the sun or something. I don’t fucking know. “Death happens after about three hours.”

“And.”

“And… and…? There’s plenty of time to get away?”

Stalker sighs. “Simply put. The death is dramatic and typically distracting enough to provide distraction, although no one will doubt that this was an intentional assassination. Now, there are more subtler ways to finish a mark…”

And, that’s how it goes. I lied a little, some of the plants we learn about aren’t poisonous. There’s elfroot (I tried not to laugh, Zev was mad at me for a week) and Embrium and I few others that could be made into healing Polyjuice? polt-pol-…? Fucking-creams.

One day Stalker brings us Elfroot.

Apparently, this shit is everywhere, just not in the city proper, so we’ve never seen it. Stalker is talking, but we’re not really listening, passing the plant back and forth. Zev and Punkass are talking back and forth, repeating what they remember from the book that we had to read and copy and read and copy… ugh, I’m so bored. It’s just a plant.

“What species of elfroot is this.”

The other too look at each other and then look at me, like I know every fucking answer. They where the ones playing with the plant, how the hell should I know? Nope, but Zev then goes and hands it to me trying to be sly about it. I thought you where good at things like this? The leaves are fuzzy looking. It comes away on my fingers when I touch it. “G-Gossamer?” Because gossamer is another word for spider webs, or something, and it kind of feels like... spider webs?

“Well done, Vasco.” Hell yes! Stalker is talking again. Something about how the stuff on the leaves can be used to stop bleeding and how…

But school is boring and some how I still missed everything he said from then until he let us go.

\---

“Vasco.” God, I hate that name. It’s Stalker. He’s flagging me over, and I don’t think he wants to give me a hug.

“It was nice knowing you.” Fuck you Zev.

“No, it wasn’t.” Talisen, if I could kill you in your sleep.

I’ve never been on the top floor of this place. I mean, sure there was one time I woke up in that nice room with that mage. Pretty sure that one only the second floor. The third was saved for. Well. I’m not exactly sure. But there were nice rooms, some of the doors where left open and I could see beds with actual sheets.

Assholes, all of them. Making kids sleep on the floor.

There’s a huge desk and behind it; Scarface.

Been a while since we’ve seen each other. He usually doesn’t have a hand in training the kids. In fact, it’s all on Stalker’s hands, mostly. Someone’s gotta do it, I guess.

“Ravan.” Oookay, they’re calling me by my real name. I’m fucked, I’m so fucked, “can you explain this to me?”

This is a piece of paper I had used to show Zevran and Punkass some math, seeing as they’d gotten so good at adding and subtracting. There was a set of multiplications, that they had practically flew through, and division.

Alright so they were smart kids, “Uh?”

Scarface is giving me a look that could spoil milk, but I think his face just looks like that. “Eoman tells me you’ve been showing the others maths. I would like you to show me as well.” He moves the paper in front pointing to the corner. 22. “What does this mean.”

“Squared.” He doesn’t say anything. Is it hot in here? “I-It means to multiply it by itself. S… so, two squared is two times two.”

“And where did you learn this.”

“I um… was taught…” Yeah, we go to school from the age of eight to seventeen and learn all about this and also history and other things, five days a week and there was like a thousand kids at once, you’d like an operation that big, wouldn’t you? Yep, totally going to tell them that. “Before I was brought here… I don’t… really remember much. I think I… hurt my head…”

They wait, but I can’t think of anything else to say, so it’s just awkward.

“What else can you remember.”

Oh boy. What do I remember? “Um… the sides of a triangle? Some other stuff with shapes…”

“You called it Algebra, what you showed me.” Oh yeah, I forgot Stalker had me do it.

“Yeah that too.” So, they got me explain it, every formula I remember gets scribbled down in charcoal. I have to explain twice that I don’t remember all the numbers for pi, and only math crazy people would, but I think they accept it. Speed and velocity is another hard one, I can’t remember what’s divided by what. It doesn’t make Stalker and Scarface happy. Trying to do algebra with more then one letter is hard too, and I’m not sure I’m doing it right. I’m trying damn it.

“And this one.” Scarface is pointing at e=mc2, shit I’m really wishing I didn’t write that down.

“Okay uh. I know e is for energy and m is for mass, but I don’t really remember what the c is for.”

Stalker stares at it like he’ll figure out the answer. “You knew what the others were for, at least.”

And I know who figured it out, but I ain’t telling you about Einstein if I can help it. “Yeah… its used to calculate how much energy a thing has… or something. Like a chair or… I donno. Anything, really.”

“A chair doesn’t have … energy.”

“Well yeah, that’s what the c is about, but I really can’t remember what it is. Maybe it has to do with how fast it’s moving? But then it would be that other formula.”

“Is there more?”

“Oh yeah, a lot more, but I didn’t get that far. And I know there’s stuff that I’m forgetting now too.” Cuz there’s no way in hell I just explained years of math classes and struggle to them in, what, an hour?

“Alright Vasco, go back down. Tell Zevran and Talisen you won them the afternoon off.” I did? Sweet. Don’t need to tell me twice.

\---

Now that the holidays are over, everyone's on guard again, it's hard as shit to steal anything, it's like the merchants stepped up their game, Zevran and I have to split up more often than not, just to keep them from realizing we're a tag team. Zev’s better then me, but we still go back hungrier then we like and there's no helping it. It all blurs together when you spend your days worrying if you'll go to bed hungry and your nights if you're going to get beaten the next day. Fucking A, it sounded just like home.

Maybe I haven't really left at all.

I'm pissed. I'm hungry, and I couldn't take anything without risking getting caught. I still have a few scars that were still healing and it would be kind of stupid of me to get them ripped open, you know, again. It would just be better if this day was over. Maybe my dreams will be better, but then, those have been just as weird as the first. I'm whining like a bitch, sue me.

I get a half second to realize Zevran is standing in front of me before I get a left hook to the face. "The fuck!?"

"They're gone!" He shouts and the next thing I know the winds knocked from my lungs and we're both struggling in the dirt. I have to stop myself from hitting him, which gives him plenty of opportunity to smack me a good one. I have to settle for grabbing his arms to try and make him stop. "They're gone! You're the only one who knew!"

I got him off my chest and pin him to the round, little fucker knees me in the stomach, he was aiming for lower, but I'm taller than him. He's still spitting like an angry cat, and some of the shit he's saying, it's all in Antivan, I don't get, except for one thing, "I thought I could trust you!"

I'm sorry if I'm a dumbass when things are hitting the fan. Stopping to think isn't very high on my priority list, but I got the hint now and was half ready to beat my own face into the wall. "I didn't!"

The kids in the yard had started gathering around. Shit, I hate spectators, one of them is going to rat us out, I know it. I throw Zevran off me and he rolls in the dirt, shit I think I really hurt him that time.

"I didn't," I say for what must've been the hundredth time. Crazy shit here, elf ears move. If you're watching you see them twitch. We struggle to our feet, dirt in my eyes and Zevran looks like he's about to throw himself at me again, but his ears twitch and he realizes how many kids are watching. God, the look of murder on the kids face. He snaps something at me, but I don't catch it at all and storms off.

The kids around us mutter disappointed under their breath that there wasn't any blood. Fuck them, I grumble and slide my back against the wall. Shit, I knew this was going to happen I knew it. It doesn't matter that he told me, someone noticed him coming and going in the night and followed him, that was all there was to it. But how do I convince a kid of something that's obvious to me?

I don't follow him, I'm just as pissed off as he his. Damn it if I ever find who took them- but fuck. Who am I kidding? I've been here almost a year, give or take, I know how this shit works by now. No one smart is going to give it up and even if they were they'd have a gang of followers behind them. Zev's gloves are long gone, but it's not my fault damn it!

I take a walk, it's about the only thing I can do, and avoid any of the places me and Zevran like to hang out. Chances are he doesn't want to see my sorry ass. The city is black by the time I wander back. No lights on the streets to chase away the dark on this side of town. I bet the rich fuckers do, you can hear the bards if your close enough to the stairs. It's not that dark though, the stars make it almost easy to see by, not to mention the moons.

Zevran isn't there when I get back. I try to wait up for him, I wanna apologize, tell him again that it wasn't me and to probably kick myself for saying I told you so and pissing him off again, but he never shows.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, everyone, thank NaNoWriMo for the final completion of this chapter. I promise nothing on chapter 6 only that it WILL eventually get done~ At some point. One day. I honestly don’t go a day without thinking about this story, but hopefully things will go a bit more smoothly now. There was a huge plot change, that I had to force myself into accepting and then plotting, and stop myself from second guessing. It’s done. Its finished. Just gotta write it all. :)
> 
> Thank you all who are willing to wait so long for each installment I appreciate every one of you.


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